Never Lose Strength
by rock x crazii 342
Summary: When a terrible tragedy befalls Hermione in her last year at Hogwarts, will she be able to keep going as Head Girl? Follow the story of her and her friends as her friends and enemies change, and as she finds comfort in the most unlikely people.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary--When a terrible tragedy befalls Hermione in her last year at Hogwarts, will she be able to keep going? Will she be able to keep being Head Girl? Will she ever get her strength back? Follow the story of Hermione as her friends and enemies change, and she finds comfort and strength in the most unlikely people.**

**Disclaimer--I own none of these characters, except the ones I create. They're all J.K. Rowling's. And I own my plot. But that would pretty much be it.**

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**Never Lose Strength**

**Chapter 1 **

"Oi! Hermione! Over here!"

Hermione Granger turned towards the sound, and saw one of her best friends, Harry Potter, running towards her, his shaggy black hair ruffling in the wind. She grinned. She had been waiting for this all summer.

"How was the trip over?" He asked, gesturing towards the shoe that lay in the middle of the field about a half mile away from the Burrow.

Hermione had taken a Portkey, which Mr. Weasley had sent for her. It was two weeks before school reopened, and her parents were going to the States to visit some friends, so she was going to stay with the Weasleys. "_Almost_ a pain." She gestured towards her suitcases, which littered the field. "I had no idea how to keep them all with me; you know, make them come with the Portkey. But I figured it out." She smiled brightly.

"Blimey!" A new voice called out, emerging from the trees that Harry had come out of minutes before. "Think you brought enough stuff?" Ron Weasley, Hermione's other best friend, pointed at all her suitcases, his red hair glinting in the sunlight.

Hermione blushed a little. "Well…I didn't want to be short anything."

Ron snorted. "The whole of _England_ wouldn't be short of anything with all this!"

Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes. Ron was touchy about lots of stuff, especially stuff that others had that he didn't, and it was frankly quite annoying, but today she didn't feel like pressing the issue. It was too good of a day; the sun was shining, and she was back with her best friends, and she was almost at Hogwarts, and….

"Oh!" She shrieked, suddenly remembering something. "If I'm Head Girl, I should get my letter today! Oh, oh, I hope I get to be Head Girl." She bit her lip.

"Calm down, 'Mione. Why would Dumbledore _not_ pick you?" Harry offered, flicking his wand to levitate the suitcases. They began to walk.

"Yeah!" Ron put in. "You were the best prefect last year. None of the first years _dared_ to curse the staircases."

"Ha-ha." Hermione replied dryly. "But…but…." She shook her head, and they kept walking.

As soon as they stepped foot in the Burrow, Mrs. Weasley nearly bowled them over. "Hermione! Dear! How was your summer?" She asked, pulling them into the kitchen. "Come on, have a snack. You must be starved!" She talked as if Hermione's trip had taken days, whereas it had only taken her five minutes. Hermione didn't want to burst Mrs. Weasley's bubble, though, and obediently sat down at the table, followed by Harry and Ron.

"My summer has been absolutely _splendid_," Hermione told Mrs. Weasley. "I took a vacation with my parents; I didn't realize how much I had missed them. And then I hung with my mates for a while, just enjoying everything. It was very stress free. And now I'm here." She looked around contentedly.

"Sounds wonderful," Mrs. Weasley replied. "Here, take this." She shoved a plate of something in Hermione's face, and after she had taken a little bit to be courteous, Harry and Ron dragged her upstairs.

The two weeks were spent happily; they played two-on-two Quidditch with Ginny, and sometimes three-on-three with Fred and George, and devoured Mrs. Weasley's meals in third and fourth helpings. Hermione was so relaxed and cheerful that everything horrible seemed so surreal. It was like a dream, and it flew by too fast. She got her Head Girl badge in the mail, the day after her arrival; while everyone acted excited and yet unsurprised and threw her a party, she acted modest, while inside she was jumping up and down.

All too soon, it was the morning of their departure. King's Cross Station, Platform 9 ¾. Hermione felt almost nostalgic as she whizzed through the familiar sequence with the Weasleys and Harry. This would probably be the last time she would go through this; the last time she would see the Hogwarts Express coming around the corner. And yet, this time it would be different. She would stop in to say hello to Ron and Harry, and then she would be off to the Head's compartment, and then patrolling the corridors.

For once in her life, she was sick of growing up. She wanted time to just freeze. She didn't want to leave Hogwarts. She couldn't imagine leaving Hogwarts. It was too much of a routine; going back there every year. But this time, summer would come and go, and she wouldn't be going back; she would be off to the Ministry, or wherever she was going to work.

She wouldn't have a safe haven, either.

She pushed the thoughts out of her mind as the Hogwarts Express actually came around the corner, whistling cheerily.

"Fred! George! Ginny!" Mr. Weasley barked, knowing full well that wherever they had gotten lost in the crowd, they could still here him.

Hermione laughed as they stumbled over through the swarms of witches and wizards, in disarray. "You guys look like you've been through a blender."

Six confused pairs of eyes turned to stare at her.

Okay, so some things would never change.

"It's a Muggle instrument," Mr. Weasley explained, being the only other person beside herself that knew what she was talking about. "It crushes food items together. Handy if you're making sauces, pastes, or mixtures."

"Thanks for that, Dad," Ginny told him.

Mr. Weasley turned slightly pink, just like Ron did when he was embarrassed. "Yes, erm, no problem."

"Five minute warning!" A voice yelled, and Mrs. Weasley quickly gathered her children and children's friends in a huge group hug.

"Stay out of trouble, and keep in touch!" She reminded everyone. Her eyes fixed on the twins. "Especially you two, Fred and George." Then her face fell. "Oh, oh, wait. You two aren't going to Hogwarts, are you?"

"No ma'am," They both said at the same time, sniggering slightly. "We're off to work at the Ministry." Fred added. "In case it slipped your mind."

Mrs. Weasley sighed. "How did my two silly boys get into the Ministry? And how did they grow up so fast?"

"Mu-um!" George groaned. "Let the young chaps go, already." He grinned wickedly at Ron, Harry, Hermione, and Ginny.

"We're not _young_," Hermione retorted. "Maybe just in age, but compared to you two…." She shook her head. Fred and George laughed along with everyone else.

"Well, George is right. You better run along." Mr. Weasley said. "Have fun, stay out of trouble. Same old thing. And Harry? Try to stay out of messes."

Harry looked hurt. "Mr. _Weasley_! You know I like a quiet lifestyle. How could I possibly get into any messes?"

The laughter trailed off as the four got on the train. Everyone exchanged last-minute good-byes, and Harry, Ron, and Ginny went off to find compartments, as Hermione headed for the Head's.

She realized she was humming as she walked: an old Muggle tune that she had heard for the first time in a long time this summer, called, "Somewhere Over the Rainbow." Her spirit was high: and she was proud of herself; she hadn't been snippety with anyone the whole two weeks, even when Harry and Ron were acting like dolts.

The door to the Head's compartment slid easily underneath her hand, and she stepped inside, still grinning.

Her grin slipped, replaced by a frown. _Annoyed_ frown. "Malfoy. This is the Head's compartment. Get back to your own."

Draco Malfoy, one of Hermione's mortal enemies, was sitting on a seat, his golden-white hair perfect as always and his steel gray eyes cold. "This _is_ my compartment, Granger." His eyes narrowed. "Did you read the letter?"

What letter? Oh. The Head letter. Yes…er…no. She had just grabbed the badge and ran around screaming for a bit, leaving the paper forgotten. Where was it? She must have packed it somewhere.

"I'm Head Boy." He announced, obviously gaining satisfaction in her misery.

Hermione's eyes narrowed as well. "Stop playing, Malfoy. If you don't get out of here right this—" Her eyes widened, and she cut herself off as Malfoy shone his badge at her.

"This is as much _my_ compartment as yours." He told her with a sort of tone that told her the conversation was over.

"Fine. But stay away from me. And you're supposed to be patrolling the corridors."

Malfoy grinned and stood up. Merlin's beard—he had grown so much! Hermione had to look up to see his face. "Bully first years? My pleasure." And he disappeared out the door, leaving Hermione fuming behind him. How had _he_ gotten to be Head Boy? It so much insulted the whole system.

With a flick of her wand, Hermione was dressed in her school robes, her badge fixed on. And she headed out after Malfoy.


	2. Chapter 2

Never Lose Strength

**Never Lose Strength**

**Chapter 2 **

"'Mione!" Harry said as soon as Hermione burst through the door of their compartment. "How's it? Head duties and all?"

"Absolutely _terrible_," Hermione denounced, throwing herself down on a seat.

"What's gotten up your arse?" Ron wanted to know, putting down the magazine he had been reading.

Hermione glared. "_Malfoy_ is up my arse. He's Head Boy, for Pete's sake!"

"Who's Pete?" Ron asked, genuinely confused.

Hermione groaned. She had to stop with all the Muggle sayings. She had been spending way too much time with her Muggle friends that summer.

"It's an expression." Harry clarified.

"How did _Malfoy_ get to be Head Boy?" The redhead demanded then, his magazine fully flung in a corner by then. He spit Malfoy's name with such force and hatred that Hermione was surprised he didn't choke on it.

"I don't know!" She got up and started pacing. "All I know is I'm going to go insane if I have to spend the whole year sharing a dorm with him."

Ron's eyes widened massively, but then receded. "Ohh. Head's dorm."

"Yes, of course!" Hermione snapped. "What did you think, I would stay with him out of choice?"

Ron turned red to the tips, sat back down, and said nothing for the rest of the trip.

--

"Hermione!" A voice shouted. She turned. A girl with long, straight red hair, sparkling eyes, and rosy cheeks caught up with her on her adventure across the lawn.

"Hey, Ginny." Hermione replied, closing her eyes against the wind. It was only the middle of September, but already the winds were practically unbearable. They flew in huge gusts, pulling up the not quite yellow and red leaves. She pulled her scarf tighter around her neck. "I hate this weather!"

Ginny nodded. "But I'm so excited for this Quidditch game! It's going to be really good, I think. And close! And with this weather…I don't think either team will have an advantage." She launched into a full description of every player, their position, their strengths and weaknesses, and why she thought the Gryffindor and Slytherin teams would be a perfect match.

"So, Gin." Hermione interrupted her, halfway through her spiel. "Remind me again why you're not on the Quidditch team this year?"

Ginny sighed. "I don't know….I don't really have time." She finally said.

Hermione tilted her head to the side. "Ginny Weasley. That's not the reason and you know it." She studied her friend some more as they walked slowly, still fighting the raging winds. "It's because of Harry." She concluded after a moment of two of thought. "You're not on the best terms right now, are you?"

The younger girl bit her lip, as if she didn't know how much she should disclose. Then she heaved a sigh. If she couldn't tell Hermione, who could she tell? "I'm afraid of getting so close to him, you know? We're on good terms…at least, he's on good terms with me." She quickly rushed over her last comment, pretending she had never said it. "I love him and everything, but I don't want to get too attached. He'll leave after this year, and I'll miss him like crazy, and by the time I'm out of Hogwarts, he'll either be working hard, already taken, part of You-Know-Who's army, or else…." She gulped, and Hermione didn't have to press her to know what she meant.

"Gin." Hermione wanted to say something, but she couldn't think of the right words. She decided instead to drop the subject. "There's a Hogsmeade trip soon. We've just decided on it, and I've just decided you'll be the first, outside the prefects, to know."

"Mmm." Ginny said dreamily. "I can almost taste that butterbeer in my mouth."

Hermione laughed. She inwardly patted herself on the back; way to be tactful, Herms!

They reached the stands and took their seats; they were some of the earliest arrivers, and the two teams were still warming up. Ginny and Hermione stood up, screaming, "Go Harry! Go Ron!" At the top of their lungs, and adding an occasional, "Go Gryffindor!" or another team member for variety. They were practically hoarse when they sat back down, as more students filed in, drowning out their voices, but at least Ron and Harry felt important.

"'Mione!" Ginny suddenly said as the commentator, a Hufflepuff sixth year, started introducing the players.

"Yes?" Hermione didn't take her eyes away from the field.

"I've though of a solution!"

Hermione was momentarily confused. A solution to what? Luckily, she didn't have to answer, because Ginny filled in the silence. "You and Ron should date!"

Hermione whirled so fast, Ginny almost fell backwards onto the person sitting next to her on the stands. "_What_?" She demanded.

Ginny didn't falter. "If you and Ron go out, then I won't feel so serious about me and Harry, and everything can be normal!"

"N-normal?" Hermione sputtered. "With me going out with _Ron_? Your _brother_ Ron?"

"The very same," Ginny nodded her head furiously.

Hermione stared at her for several long seconds, and then burst out laughing. She almost started crying, she was laughing so hard. "Ginny, it's happened. You've cracked."

Gryffindor won the game with the catching of the Snitch, which had Ginny and Hermione on their feet all over again, talking and laughing as if nothing had happened.

"You were brilliant!" Hermione shrieked, running onto the field towards Harry and Ron. "Absolutely brilliant!"

Ron smirked. "Fancy that, coming from Hermione."

Hermione stopped to give him a glare, but immediately abandoned the face for a happier one. "Come on, come on, we have to go celebrate!"

Ginny came running out of nowhere and planted a kiss on Harry's lips. "You did _amazing_, Harry," She whispered to him, and they ran off, disappearing in the slowly collecting fog.

The laughter and voices started to die as everyone headed inside. "Come on, Ron!" Hermione told him. "Let's go!" She took his hand, and they ran inside to enjoy the party in Gryffindor's common room.


	3. Chapter 3

**Never Lose Strength**

**Chapter 3**

It felt almost gloomy to Hermione as she headed back to the Head's dorm after the party. Up till then, the dorm all to herself felt wonderful. She could do whatever she wanted! But now, she missed all her friends' even breathing if she woke up in the middle of the night, or arrived back late. Now she was just met with silence.

"How was the party?" Malfoy sneered, as soon as Hermione stepped foot inside.

Hermione bared her teeth. "Just dandy, thank you." She said curtly, and started up the stairs to her room.

"Granger and Weasel, sitting in a tree…." Malfoy started to hum, and Hermione instantly whirled around.

"_What_ did you say?" She demanded.

"Oh, come on!" Malfoy snickered, leaning back on the couch in the common room. "I saw you two holding hands. You are _such_ a cute couple. Threadbare Weasley and Mudblood Granger. It's a match made in hell."

Hermione snorted. "Right. Because honestly, _I'm_ the one out of the two of us that's more likely to go to hell. Right?"

"That's right. Because you're a Mudblood." Malfoy returned.

"Oh, get a new insult!" Hermione screamed, and ran into her bedroom, slamming the door shut. God. He was so annoying. How much better would things have been if Harry or Ron were Head Boy? Or even a Hufflepuff, or Ravenclaw, for all she cared. Anybody but Malfoy.

The warm bath helped to soothe her nerves, but all she saw as she fell into sleep was Malfoy, standing in the middle of the flames of hell, laughing and not being burnt a single bit.

--

The day of Hogsmeade came, and Hermione really, really needed it. Malfoy had been driving her up a wall recently, and she was more than happy to stay in the Gryffindor common room rather than venture into the Heads' on the nights that she felt more stressed out than she had ever been, which was basically every night. On top of every one of the most advanced classes she could possibly take, and the _most_, and barely any time in the library, and Malfoy, and Head Girl duties, she was a walking wreck. She didn't show it, of course; to everyone else, she was still Hermione, the Queen of Cool. But she had been counting the days, mentally, until the Hogsmeade trip, where she could just forget everything.

"Come on, 'Mione!" Ginny called. Hermione looked out her room door, and saw Ginny standing in the middle of the Heads' common room. Hermione had told her the most recent password, so she could fetch her when they were ready to go to Hogsmeade. "Everyone's ready."

"Coming!" Hermione called back. She had bundled up nicely, so she wouldn't freeze to death out on the streets of the town.

"What's all the racket?" Came Malfoy's icy voice, from inside his room. "Would you please take it outside?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and ran down the steps to the common room, where she let Ginny lead her outside. "I really, really need a break from him." She confided as they headed towards the Great Hall, where they planned on having lunch and then leaving.

Ginny nodded sympathetically. "I can imagine—I get sick of him being around him for five minutes! Living with him…." She shook her head. "You are one amazing girl, Hermione Granger. I would have stomped up to Dumbledore's office within the first week."

Hermione couldn't help but feel a buzz of pride, and she didn't let herself admit to Ginny that that was what she had been intending to do, if she continued to fall apart. But now—Ginny was right. Hermione Granger did not back down.

Harry and Ron waved the girls over in the Great Hall. Lavender, Seamus, Parvati, and Neville were all sitting near them.

They took their seats. "Hey, Lav!" Hermione said. "I don't ever see you…except for in Charms and Herbology. How's it?"

Lavender scooted so she could sit next to Hermione, and they began to talk and gossip, while Ginny talked to some of her friends from her own year. Parvati joined in with Lavender and Hermione, and before they knew it, it was time to go.

"Meet us in Three Broomsticks later?" Hermione asked. She had forgotten how much she enjoyed being with Lavender and Parvati. She remembered back when they were younger, they had had 'sleepovers' in their dorms—which was basically just staying up late and having fun. But it had been a blast.

Lavender nodded. "Definitely." And she, Seamus, Neville, and Parvati disappeared.

"Neville's changed," Hermione commented as she, Harry, Ron, and Ginny prepared to leave as well. "He's not so…round anymore, and he outgrew that baby look."

Ginny agreed, while Harry and Ron just nodded like they knew what she was talking about. Hermione rolled her eyes. _Boys_. But she was proud of Neville—he actually looked good now. Not breathtakingly handsome, but good-looking. And she had seem him earlier talking to another Gryffindor girl, Marisa Wynders, and she hadn't missed his pink cheeks and the way he talked carefully to her. Ah. Young love.

They had to wait in line, but the four finally found a carriage, and reached Hogsmeade at about two. They wandered the shops, stopping in Fred and George's, which they actually kept up despite their Ministry jobs. They explored the tricks and toys and games, and Hermione almost had a heart attack, she was laughing so hard, when Ginny shrieked and jumped backwards because she had through the Exploding Frogger was a real frog that had just exploded. By the time they left, they were all out of breath and suddenly cold, because the sheer amount of people inside the shop had kept them toasty warm.

"Butterbeers?" Ginny asked eagerly. The sun was already starting to sink; they had spent a long time inside Ron's brothers' shop.

"Yes!" They chorused.

The Three Broomsticks was packed, but they managed to find a table near the back that fit the four of them. After ordering their butterbeers, they talked.

"Hermione," Ginny whined. "Why don't I ever see you anymore?"

_Because I'm always in my room, hiding from the Malfoy monster, or buried in my books_. "I've just been busy. I've so much to do this year! What with…erm…how's it been with you?"

Everyone looked at her strangely, but no one commented. Ginny started to tell a story of a collision between Nearly Headless Nick and Peeves, which got them all laughing the butterbeer out of their noses, and then Harry jumped in, talking about how Colin Creevey had fully slammed on Blaise Zabini. "You should have seen his face!" Harry said, laughing. "He looked like he had just been hit with a metal trunk!"

Hermione took another sip of her butterbeer, and sank farther into her seat. Ah. This was good. She turned her head just in time to see a familiar face searching the crowd. "Lav! Lavender! Parvati!" Hermione yelled over the noise, waving her hands and signaling for them to join her. They shook their heads and pointed to their own table, which was bigger and fit for more people. Hermione glanced back at her friends, who all nodded and got up.

"How's it been going?" Hermione asked, sliding into a seat next to Lavender.

"We went into the Weasleys' shop; your brothers are geniuses!" Dean nodded appreciatively at Ron. "I had a piece of Termite Gum, and I gave it to Lavender, and I swear she almost fainted when all those little chewable beetles ran out of her mouth."

"Eww." Ginny shuddered. "That's worse than what happened to me…."

They recounted their tales of the day, and every day before that they hadn't had time to share with each other since the start of their ridiculously crazy seventh year.

"Oi!" Neville suddenly said, amidst the various voices. "I have an idea." Everyone stopped talking and turned to him expectantly, eager to get back to their own conversations. "We should meet once a week." Everyone looked at him blankly, and he quickly elaborated, reddening. "We've all got no time to talk, so we should meet in the Room of Requirement once a week. Just to…catch up." His voice got quieter as he went and received no encouragement.

Hermione broke through the silence. "That's a wonderful idea!"

"Yeah!" Parvati said. "That would be so much fun!"

"And a good break from everything," Ginny added, winking at Hermione.

"It should be exclusive. Invite-only. So the whole of Gryffindor doesn't show up." Lavender put in.

The room suddenly went quiet. The talking at Hermione's table abruptly stopped, and they all searched for the source of…quiet? What had happened? Hermione's head stopped at the entrance to the pub: standing there were Professor McGonagall and Professor Dumbledore. They both wore such grim expressions that it immediately washed away the joy that had previously surrounded the Three Broomsticks. There was deathly silence, as they waited for the professors to make the reason for their visit known. It was something important, and every student was waiting erectly to hear it.

"Miss Granger?" McGonagall called through the still room.

Hermione could feel her heart fluttering as she rose, and she thought everyone else in the room could probably hear it. Not a single chair that she had ever been in had scraped as noisily across a wooden floor as hers right then. Not ever had she had such undivided attention on her. "Yes?" She said, and the noise, however weak and throaty it was, sliced through the thick air like a knife through soft butter.

"Come with me, please."

Pushing down the lump in her throat, she took one step, and then another, carefully forcing one foot in front of the other. She could feel her friends' eyes on her, wondering why McGonagall would interrupt a Hogsmeade trip for her, and everyone else wondering the same, except on less personal terms, and why everything suddenly seemed so dark and miserable.

At least, to Hermione it did.

The mood was lost. Hermione followed the stony-faced professors outside, and heard the whispering start even before the door swung shut.

"Hermione, dear," Professor McGonagall said as they walked up the deserted, dark streets of Hogsmeade. "How are you feeling?" She sounded so…well…almost…_sympathetic_.

"Um, fine?" Hermione said it as a question, confused.

"Oh. Oh! Oh, dear." McGonagall turned to Dumbledore. "Albus, the poor child doesn't know yet."

Dumbledore sighed. "I was afraid of this."

Afraid of what? Who? Hermione cringed as the possibilities of what could have happened raced through her mind. But it stopped at zero. Wait. Everything had to do with either Harry, or…Harry. What else could it be? But he had been back at the Three Broomsticks. What did she not know yet? "Professor…s…I don't…erm…I don't understand." Hermione finally said.

McGonagall only nodded, and neither spoke again till they had safely reached Dumbledore's office, back at Hogwarts.

As Dumbledore held the door open for Hermione, she had a slightly nagging sense in the back of her brain that she was walking towards her doom.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: VampireNaomi, you're right...this is pretending that basically everything in the sixth book never happened. I forgot to mention that at the beginning. Sorry!**

**Firnoviel, you're right, too...Harry _should_ understand the Muggle sayings. What was I thinking? Thanks for the catch.  
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**Thanks to all my reviewers, you guys are awesome. :) Keep reviewing, and enjoy.**

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**Never Lose Strength**

**Chapter 4**

"It's seven." Ginny announced. "Club Gryff is now in session."

Harry, Ron, Ginny, Lavender, Parvati, Neville, Seamus, and Dean were gathered in the Room of Requirements. They had set up their schedule—every Wednesday, after the end of everyone's last class—and the girls had oh so creatively named the club Club Gryff. It was the first week.

The Room had conjured up comfy sofas, chairs, and pillows, and they had even planned on having Muggle games, except that….

"Oh…." Lavender looked around the room, crestfallen. "Hermione isn't here, is she?"

Ron shook his head. "She's still in her room."

"What do you suppose happened?" Parvati sat in a chair, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees. "I feel so sorry for her. The Professors could've blended into a wall with the looks they had on."

Seamus nodded. "It looked right serious. Has she been in classes?"

"Yeah," Harry said. "Well, the ones she has with me. But she doesn't talk, and she doesn't raise her hand, she just sits there with that same face, the one that doesn't quite have anything on it."

Ginny let out a deep sigh. And then she sat up. "Oh! I've a brilliant idea! Let's surprise her, with a party!"

"Brilliant," Neville agreed. "We should take some Exploding Snap over."

"And chess!" Ron added eagerly.

"Canary Creams always cheer me up," Dean offered.

They passed their first meeting of Club Gryff by discussing how they could go about throwing Hermione a cheer-up party, and Weasley's Wizard Wheezes and Invisibility Cloak was mentioned more than once.

--

Draco Malfoy growled and knocked on the bathroom door again. No, not knocked; pounded. "GRANGER!" He bellowed. "Hurry the bloody hell up!"

She had been in there for the past…long time. He was getting tired of waiting for her. He knew she was in some sort of deep depression; he had seen the professors take her from the Three Broomsticks, and then when he had gotten back later that night, he had heard her sobs from the common room. He had knocked on her door and told her so, and after that she had put up silencing spells in her room.

But now she was hogging the bathroom, and he really, really needed a shower. For God's sake, she had been stuck in her little shell for four days! The girl needed to toughen up and get her filthy behind out of the bathroom.

"Go away, Malfoy!" Came the reply. Even Draco could tell that her heart wasn't into it; she didn't have the usual snotty tone she reserved for just him. Hah. Just him. Made him feel special, in a twisted sort of way.

"I need a shower!" He roared back.

"Use the prefect's bathroom."

Draco didn't answer. Why the hell should he use the prefect's bathroom? This was his bathroom, and he fully intended to use it. "Come on, Granger. I don't need you dirtying up everything more than you already have. As much as I would love to use the prefect's bathroom, which has none of your filthiness on it, I have no time!"

Silence.

Footsteps.

The door slowly opened, and there was Granger, standing in her towel, looking quite as pale as it, with red-rimmed eyes and a tired-looking face. He looked down at her, and for a second their eyes locked. Startled, he looked away. "Fine. Take it." She whispered, and turned and disappeared out her door.

Draco was awestruck. Never, ever in his life had he seen someone looking like Granger had just looked. She looked so vulnerable and scared and alone, and she had made no attempt to hide it; it was like she just didn't care anymore. What could have happened that made her so drastically different? Four days ago, she wouldn't have been caught dead letting Draco see her in just a towel. But now….

Whatever. It wasn't any of Draco's business, and it wasn't like he really cared. He enjoyed Granger's pain. She shouldn't even _be_ at Hogwarts. But…those brown eyes…it wasn't like he had never seen her eyes before. But those eyes looked _haunted_. They looked empty. He was so used to seeing them happy, or at least full of her emotions. But it seemed like every last bit of feeling had abandoned her. He shuddered involuntarily, and stepped into the bathroom to take his shower.

--

Hermione could barely move. Her legs and arms felt as heavy as lead, and her head was a hundred times worse. It was like her body had been through a hurricane and tornado and earthquake and tsunami all on the same day, but she wasn't outwardly battered; it was inside that she was being ripped apart, bit by bit.

It was hard enough to go to classes. She had to drag herself out of the now deep, dark confines of her room and attend her classes, and try to pay attention, try to snap out of it. And then she would wander back, feeling like a zombie, ignoring her friends, ignoring everything. She hated it, and yet she had no energy to keep going. She had no energy to try to be normal. She did'nt have any motivation.

_This is what you get for a whole summer of fun, forgetting your duties_, She had tried to tell herself. And then she had taken it to heart, and everything came crashing down. It was her fault. Her fault. She led them to them. Everything was her fault.

An impossible tear ran down her cheek again, as she forced herself out of her room and to the kitchen that was part of the Head's dorm. She had thought she was all cried out, all dried out. She felt as shriveled as she imagined her Grandma was, at age 97—like a dry raisin.

Maybe some water would help. She grabbed a glass from the cabinet, and began to fill it; but it slipped through her hands at the extra weight of the water, and smashed into a million little pieces on the floor. The tears kept coming, then. Nothing could keep them back. The impossible _could_ happen. Like what had happened. And what was happening now—she was crying the tears that weren't left.

She sank down to her knees, and then further, until she was sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall, her arms across her knees, her head hung below. She let the tears fall freely, and when she felt the pain in her foot and saw the trickle of blood, and the piece of glass, she took no notice. Everything swirled violently, and things were changing colors as fast as—

Everything went dark.

--

Draco opened up the portrait, muttered the password, and slipped inside to the common room. His stomach was killing him—and it was halfway between lunch and dinner. He really, really needed food. Luckily, something in Hogwarts was smart, because they had put a kitchen right there for them.

Draco was heavily surprised to find Granger sitting there, in the fetal position, surrounded by broken glass. He had expected she would still be moping up in her room. Sigh. Why did she always have to be everywhere, an annoyance? He carefully stepped around her, going to make himself a grilled cheese.

He had already finished eating it, and she still hadn't moved. "Granger!" He said loudly. She didn't move. "Granger, get your Mudblood arse off the kitchen floor."

She moved. She got up slowly, as if in a trance, wobbling, looking like she was about to fall. Draco sneered at her. He wasn't going to help her. This was totally her problem. If she fell and bonked her head, it was entirely her fault. He might as well sit back and watch the show.

"You—you—" She whispered in a voice so raspy, it sounded more like a house elf's than her own. "I…can't…you…" She let out an anguished cry, her eyes looking more vacant than ever, but even that was halfhearted. "How can you be so…cruel? I can't believe you…would…." She turned and ran unsteadily off, tripping once and falling, but gripping a couch to get herself back up and heading more slowly toward her room. She practically crawled up the stairs, while Draco just watched, and finally disappeared inside.

It was then that Draco noticed the small trail of blood she had left along her way.

Draco felt a twinge of guilt.

No. That was not guilt. So what if Granger thought he was a mean person? That wasn't exactly new news. Whatever. Disgusted with himself for even considering feeling guilty, he headed up to his own room to study for Charms.


	5. Chapter 5

**Never Lose Strength**

**Chapter 5**

When Hermione awoke, sunlight was streaming through her window. She didn't feel any better. There were still a thousand nails being pounded into her head, and her body didn't ache any less.

She hobbled down the stairs to the common room, and curled up on a couch, feeling very cold, suddenly. She grabbed a sheet and wrapped it tightly around herself, feeling sweat pop out on her forehead.

There were footsteps, and Hermione's heart sank. "You missed morning classes," A mocking voice told her.

She didn't have enough energy to respond. Her mouth felt like it was full of cotton. Her brain was switching from freezing cold to blazing hot. She began to shiver uncontrollably, but then abruptly she felt hotter than she had ever felt before, and flung the sheet off her. She immediately felt cold again, though, and reached for it, where it had settled across the room. "Ma—Mal—Ma…" She rasped, still reaching.

Malfoy hadn't moved, or at least she thought he hadn't. She tried to turn her lead-heavy head, and almost succeeded, but her lower body slipped and fell off the couch. Her head hit a table, and the world went black.

--

"I got the password from Professor Dumbledore!" Ginny announced cheerfully. "Come on, are we all ready?"

Everyone nodded. They had assembled near the stairs, Ron, Harry, Lavender, Parvati, Neville, Seamus, and Dean. Everyone was more than happy to pitch in. They were all worried about Hermione; she hadn't even visited the library in the past five days, according to Madame Pince.

"I've got Exploding Snap," Neville told them.

"Chess." Ron held up his board.

Harry showed a box of harmless chocolates from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. "I was almost sure I wouldn't find one—but here they are, all in animal shapes."

Everyone else's items were accounted for, and they were on their way.

Ginny mumbled the password to the portrait, and it swung open to reveal the hole, which each crawled through one after another. They emerged in the Head's common room, which was much too big for two people, and yet not big enough for two people such as Hermione and Malfoy.

Hoping that their plan would work, Ginny ran up the stairs to Hermione's room; but then she did a double take and ran back downstairs. She gasped, and ran over to one of the couches; there was Hermione, on the floor, between the couch and table, a thin line of blood on her head as well as her foot, and her skin shining with sweat.

Harry had gotten there first. "Bloody _hell_," He swore, looking her over. "Get Madame Pomfrey! Quick! No! Neville! Help me levitate her!"

Ron was staring, open-mouthed.

At that moment, Draco Malfoy made the unfortunate choice to appear from his room, and show up in the common room.

Ron lost it. "MALFOY!" He hollered. "You dirty, cheating, lying, SCUMBAG! Did _you_ do that to her!" He pointed at Hermione, who was quickly disappearing through the whole, followed by Neville with his wand. Harry was already through, levitating her upper half.

Malfoy shrugged, unfazed. "No."

Ron was so angry that his face was nearly purple. "NO!" He repeated. "_NO_!" He looked like he was ready to burst.

"You didn't see her when you walked by?" Seamus demanded, joining in, half to relieve Ron and half because he was that mad himself. "You just let her sit there having a jolly old time bleeding and knocked out!"

Another one-shouldered shrug. "Didn't notice."

Seamus had to hold Ron back, because he looked like he was about to charge. He shouldn't have bothered, though, because at that moment, Dean launched himself at Malfoy. Being much stronger, he almost instantly had pinned Malfoy down. "Are you _sorry_?" He snarled, his face inches from Malfoy's.

Malfoy's face was expressionless. "Yes." But it was an empty word. They both knew that, but Dean let him go anyways, much more roughly than he needed to. Malfoy stumbled back, but didn't fall. Dean, Seamus, and Ron all left, running to catch up with the boys on their way to the Infirmary.

They already had her in a bed when the three got there, huffing from running so fast. They had bypassed all teachers, ignored them, and kept going.

"How's she?" Ron demanded.

Madame Pomfrey didn't look happy. "Not too well. I…." She cleared her throat. "How long has she been alone, in her room?"

"Five days," Ron replied.

"She's in serious condition." Madame Pomfrey finally said. "If she had been helped earlier, then…she's suffering from a mental breakdown and severely high fever. The combination is slowly wearing her down. Did anyone notice that she was slowly, well, unraveling?"

Ron's eyes burned with rage. "That prat Malfoy always sees her, even when we don't. He's the Head Boy! And he did nothing about it!" He muttered the last part more to himself than Madame Pomfrey.

"Ah. Well. She'll be in here for two weeks at the least, and I discourage visits. She needs rest." With that, Madame Pomfrey left, to go administer some potion to the patient.

Harry and Ron left together, while Dean, Seamus, and Neville wandered off by themselves. "I can't believe Malfoy!" Ron exclaimed. "How can he be such a hardheaded, ice-cold git? I thought not even he would let someone to die!"

Harry ground his teeth together. "When I get my hands on him…."

"Dean's taking care of it," Ron promised. "He's not finished with Malfoy. That sorry excuse for a man deserves…everything he's put 'Mione through. And more."

--

Draco's eyes popped open, and he could feel beads of sweat on his forehead. What the--?

The dream came back to him, so clear, so real—it was real. It was a replaying of when he had found Hermione in the kitchen, and acted indifferent. She had seemed like a lost puppy, so sad and alone. For some reason, every time he heard those words in his mind: "How can you be so…cruel?" they sent icy knives through his heart. Why? Why did he care what she thought? _She's practically dead_, another voice said. That was what Dean had shouted in his face before hooking one right to the nose. He deserved it, probably; he had sat back and watched while she fell off the couch, after asking him for that stupid sheet.

No! Draco turned and stuffed his face in his pillow. Why was he feeling guilty? Why did he care about Granger? He needed to get her out of his mind. But for some reason, he kept coming back to those brown eyes. _You could've been there_…psh, and she could've been a pureblood! If he didn't kick her out of his mind, and soon, he would be in huge trouble.


	6. Chapter 6

**Never Lose Strength**

**Chapter 6**

"I've gathered us all here today," Dumbledore boomed, "To announce the joining of a new student to our midst. She had transferred under special circumstances to our humble school. Angylin Becker, please step forward."

Angylin had been hiding behind Dumbledore, where no one could see her; but now she brightly stepped forward, a spring in her step. "Hello, all," She said. Her voice wasn't magnified magically like Dumbledore's, but still, everyone could hear her. "I'm so grateful to your school to let me in so late. And I'm really excited to start here. Thanks!"

There was polite clapping, and some more brave boys let out wolf whistles.

Dumbledore smiled. "She's to be in House Gryffindor, so I'd like…Miss Gran…no, Miss Brown, please come forward. Everyone else is dismissed."

Angylin swept one side of her silky brown hair to the back of her head, then brought it back forward and put it behind her ear. She wasn't really nervous; she just didn't want to make any mistakes. She kind of had a reputation for making—lethal—mistakes. She blinked her electric blue eyes a couple times, then saw a girl coming towards her. The girl looked about her age, 7th year, and didn't look either happy or sad.

"Miss Brown, please escort Miss Becker to her dormitories, and show her to all her classes."

The girl nodded, and without a word turned again. Angylin followed. She figured she should probably say something to the Headmaster, but she couldn't think of what, and then it was too late, lest she wanted to lose her escort.

"I'm Angylin," Angylin told her cheerily, when she didn't speak first.

"So I heard," The girl replied, but she didn't say it meanly. "I'm Lavender. Brown. Umm…just so you know, this isn't a usually glum school. It's just that my circle of friends and I—we aren't in the greatest of moods at the moment. One of our friends…." She cleared her throat. "Just got admitted to the infirmary, because of that bloody pig Malfoy…." She started, realizing Angylin was still listening. "Oh, I'm sorry. Forget I said anything."

Angylin tilted her head sideways. Hmm. This sounded interesting. She wanted to know more, but she figured it wasn't the right time to ask. If Lavender was this mad, there was probably someone even madder who was keener on sharing.

"So why'd you transfer here so late?" Lavender asked, attempting to change the subject, as they went up a flight of stairs.

Angylin paused a second before answering. "Um…well…." Then a wicked grin came over her face. "How about we trade a story for a story?"

Lavender looked confused, but then her face relaxed. "Oh. _Oh_. Well…um…I'm not sure if…." She bit her lip. "Frankly, I haven't decided yet if I can trust you."

"Likewise." Angylin returned, grinning. "So come on, is Gryffindor the good house or the bad house?"

"Good!" Lavender instantly replied. "We're the lions—the brave ones. Slytherin is the bad house. Hagrid—our gamekeeper—says that a witch or wizard never went bad that didn't come out of Slytherin. Their mascot is the snake."

"What are the other houses?"

"Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff—they're both all right, but the main rivalry is between Gryffindor and Slytherin. We don't mean to, but you kind of separate yourself from other houses. You've gotten into a good one, though. How did they decide to put you in here?"

Angylin wrinkled her nose. "They let a _hat_ decide. A _talking_ hat! They put it on my head, and pop! Gryffindor!"

Lavender couldn't help but laugh. "The Sorting Hat? Believe me, the Sorting Hat is never wrong."

Angylin shrugged. "Just seems kind of twisted, putting your…ahem, if what you say about Slytherin is true…fate in the hands of a patched-up old hat."

They reached the Fat Lady, and Lavender said the password. The Fat Lady swung up, and Angylin's mouth fell open as Lavender went through.

"Nifty," Angylin said as they emerged in the Gryffindor common room. "Real nifty."

Lavender tilted her head. "Er…yeah. So tell me this. What school were you at before this?"

Angylin considered how much to tell her. Well…Adams Preparatory? That wouldn't exactly pull her string. And when Angylin explained that it was a … Muggle? … school, Lavender would surely look at her like she was crazy. Or worse—scum. Angylin was already worried. What if she didn't get the magic thing down right? She had only picked up on a few simple spells throughout her growing years.

"Hey, guys, come meet the new girl!" Lavender hollered. Neville and Seamus were already in the common room, involved in an exciting game of Exploding Snap. Lavender couldn't tell who was winning. Dean and Ron appeared at the top of the stairs, followed by Harry.

"This is Neville Longbottom, Seamus Finnigan, Dean Thomas, Ronald Weasley, and Harry Potter." Lavender said, gesturing to each one, and ignoring Ron's face when she called him Ronald. "Where's Parvati, guys? And Her—I mean, I want her to meet Angylin."

Everyone caught her slip—except Angylin—but thankfully, they kept their mouths shut.

"Harry Potter?" Angylin was too busy saying. "I think I've heard of you." She frowned, seemingly racking her brain, and Ron shot Harry a look, like, _is she that slow_? "You're that boy!"

"Erm…yes?" Harry replied, unsure of what to say.

Angylin grinned, unaware of how embarrassed she was supposed to be. "Yeah. So what's it like? Battling Voldy—Volder—Voldem…." She looked like she was thinking hard again.

"Voldemort?" Harry prompted, wondering why in the world she wouldn't know that name. There was something strange about the girl. "It's…well…." He laughed shortly. "I'd expect I'm a bit used to it, by now."

"Right, right." Angylin said, like she totally understood him, which she definitely didn't. "So what're you all in to?" She had meant more on the lines of music, movies, but all the boys answered at the same time:

"Quidditch."

This time, she didn't have to wonder what it was. She immediately smiled. "I play Quidditch!" Then she lowered her voice. "Mind you, I'm not very _good_, but it's a blast."

They shared a few laughs.

"Well, come on then, let's show you the dorm," Lavender suggested. "Ti might be up there—Parvati."

They went up the stairs, and sure enough, Parvati was in there, lounging on her bed, listening to some sort of Muggle contraption that went in her ears and connected to a little box that she was looking at.

"What are you _doing_, Ti?" Lavender asked, squinting her eyes at the box. It was no bigger than…well, a mouse. Lavender couldn't think of a better comparison. And it was rectangular, and not very thick.

"Listening to music!" Parvati replied. "'Mione gave it to me for—" She suddenly stopped speaking, casting her eyes downward. "Have you visited her today?" She asked softly.

"Madame Pomfrey wouldn't let me," Lavender replied sadly, not wanting to see Angylin's reaction to all this. "Anyways, this is Angylin."

"Hey," Parvati gave her a bright, and somewhat fake, smile. "I'm Parvati. Nice to meet you."

"You, too." Angylin replied. "So what, y'all sleep in dorms?"

Lavender was surprised at her blatantly American-type speech. She didn't sound British, like everyone else. "Yes."

"Oh. Well that's cool. Sleepovers every night, eh?" Angylin was bored of these people, already. Her old friends had been all proper, and yet they had an inner core that was all pink hair and making statements. They were fun and refined. These people were just…_boring_ as hell.

Parvati and Lavender exchanged a glance, which didn't really affect Angylin in any way. "Okay, so, now that we've got that covered, what's there to do for fun around here?"

The two girls looked at each other again. "Weasley's Wizard Wheezes," They both said at the same time. When Angylin looked confused, Lavender elaborated: "It's this place in Hogsmeade, which is the village right close to here. We take trips there now and then. You know that red-haired kid, Ron? His older twin brothers, Fred and George, are mischievous little twits, and they've been experimenting with tricks and that sort since they were in diapers. They've opened a shop, now—Weasley's Wizard Wheezes." She grinned. "You'd love it, I think."

Angylin tilted her head to the side. Uh-oh. She wasn't so sure she wanted to go messing with the tricks and hits of magic, when she didn't even really understand it all. She tried to think of a different suggestion: what had they done back at Adam's Prep for fun? She drew a blank. All she remembered was laughing faces, huge inside jokes, but she couldn't remember why or how they happened.

Parvati's eyes suddenly grew huge. "Lav!" She half-cried, half-whispered. "Did you hear about Margaret Mullen? From Ravenclaw? She was _totally_ into Davin Reins, but then he up and cheated on her with Melissa Winters! I feel so bad for her. She is on a one-way depression street." She sighed dramatically.

Oh, god. Angylin rolled her eyes. If this was what they were like all the time, she was obviously not going to be mingling within the Gryffindor crowd much. She wondered briefly if a student could request a house change—unless, of course, that grumpy old all-seeing hat denied it.


	7. Chapter 7

**Never Lose Strength**

**Chapter 7**

"'Mione? Hermione? You awake?" Ginny asked softly, prodding her gently on the shoulder.

Hermione's eyes lazily drifted open. "Yeah," She mumbled. Then her eyes widened, and she tried to bolt upright, but an invisible power held her down. "Ginny," She groaned.

"Shh," Ginny replied. "Stay calm, Herms. What is it?"

"Why am I here?" She asked, nervously looking around. "Who's hurt?"

Ginny bit the inside of her lip, and sighed softly. Hermione didn't know that _she_ was the one who was hurt. Not physically, of course; but mentally. Emotionally. And then, that terrible fever…. Ginny didn't know what had made Hermione break down, but she intended to find out.

"It hurts," Hermione finally whispered, and Ginny was so startled, she almost fell off her chair. There had been silence for a while, and the words were so soft and yet full of pain that the intensity blew Ginny away.

Ginny took Hermione's hand. "Why, 'Mione? Why does it hurt?"

Hermione sighed, and let her hand fall out of Ginny's. "You…you promise…you won't tell?"

Ginny nodded solemnly. "I swear on…on…my mother."

"Okay." Hermione bit her lip, and sagged further into the bed. She seemed to be visibly weakening as she thought about what she was going to say. It was going to open back up that hole, the gaping one that had already formed a bit of scar tissue…. "My parents." Her voice was so low, Ginny had to lean forward and still strain to hear it. "Voldemort…they…he…." Fresh tears leaked out of her eyes. It was the first time she had said it aloud. It hurt so bad. She felt like she was throwing a knife into her own heart.

Ginny didn't need Hermione to continue. "Oh!" She gasped. "Oh, 'Mione, I'm so…so sorry…." She grabbed Hermione's hand again, not wanting to hug her and somehow hurt her by accident; and she squeezed it tightly between her two own.

"I…this summer, we had a normal, Muggle summer." Hermione continued with Ginny asking her too. Each word that she said twisted into Ginny's own heart. Why would something like this happen to someone like Hermione? But it was like when she started talking, she couldn't stop. Ginny felt her own tears coming as her friend continued. "It was what I was trying to do, bring them back totally into the Muggle world. I didn't want them to get hurt! I was so afraid this would happen. They don't deserve it! They never did anything wrong! They aren't even part of Voldemort's world! And he…he…." Her eyes flashed with a bit of rage. "That filthy half-blood in denial…he…." And then she slumped again, clearly defeated. What was one measly little girl-genius supposed to do about him? And besides, they were gone. Nothing could bring them back.

Ginny abandoned her worries and gave Hermione a full hug. And then she let Hermione sob onto her shoulder, let her unburden her heart. They stayed like that for as long as they could, until Madame Pomfrey tapped Ginny on the shoulder and softly told her that she needed to leave. Ginny couldn't help but have the feeling that Madame Pomfrey had overheard the exchange.

--

It was a living nightmare. Draco couldn't remember ever feeling so uncomfortable inside his own head. Everywhere he turned, everything he thought about, it kept coming back to her. Everything! He saw his Potions book, and he thought of how good she used to be at it, before her little… problem. And passing by the library door, lights flashed in his head, and he almost _saw_ her sitting at one of the tables….And then in the Great Hall, his eyes seemed to be magnetized to her empty seat, which her friends always left, where she would be sitting if it wasn't for…

Him. Maybe that was it. He was just insanely guilty for the fact that she was in the infirmary, practically dead, and all he did was taunt her as she bled and cried. And then there was the little nagging part of his brain, which wanted to know _what_ the source of her pain was. It couldn't be him, right? She couldn't have had a mental breakdown just because he taunted her. He had never meant for her to go and practically die because of him.

Or did he? He did admit that he used to want her to die more than anything in the world. But that time had passed, and he couldn't remember anymore why he had wanted it.

After lunch, he got up and began walking towards his dormitory; but his feet seemed to redirect himself, and he ended up walking right by the infirmary. His mind started up again in a flurry of guilt and doubt and deceit, and he realized that it would go on like that if he didn't do something about it.

He didn't want a death wish, but he didn't see any way to avoid opening that infirmary door and stepping inside.

Madame Pomfrey greeted him with a cold, hard stare. "What do you want, Malfoy?"

All right, so that was expected. Nobody was exactly happy with him at the moment, except, of course, Pansy, who thought that "the bitch deserves to stay in there forever." Which was pretty original. Hah.

"I came to check on Her—Granger." He quickly said, and almost slapped himself. Hermione? Why had he almost called her that? Argh. He had to get his mind back.

Madame Pomfrey raised an eyebrow. "Well, all right. But don't make it too long, and she doesn't need any _stress_ right now." She caught his eye, and he knew what she was talking about.

He nodded shortly, and kept walking until he found Hermione's bed. She was awake, and reading, of course. "Eh, Granger…." He started, ever so smoothly.

She started, and looked up. Her face changed from passive to angry to just sad. "Yes, Malfoy?"

Draco was shocked at how tired her voice sounded. It was like all the fight was beaten out of her, all the spunk and originality that she had ever had. She sounded so…_flat_, like a soda that had lost its fizz. "I, eh, just came to, uh…." He had no idea what to say. "I…."

At that moment, he heard a shout.

"_MALFOY_!" Someone hollered, and he knew immediately who it was. He had to get out of there. If Weasel was with his friends, they could put him down for good.

The red hair came flying around the corner, and Draco quickly ducked under him and disappeared out the infirmary door, wondering how he gotten to be such an idiot so quickly.


	8. Chapter 8

**Never Lose Strength**

**Chapter 8**

Ginny was in a rotten mood.

She saw Malfoy going out of the Great Hall, and she felt like clunking him over the head with the heaviest book she could find. He was such a _prat_! Couldn't he think of anyone but himself for five minutes?

It was because of him that Hermione was in the infirmary. At least, that was what Ginny told herself—if it had been, say, Harry or Ron, they wouldn't have left her to cry and bleed all over the carpet, and then insult her on top of it. They would have helped her, and made her feel better. And that insolent little git, Malfoy, didn't even know what was wrong! It had made Ginny pound her fist into her pillow in frustration the night before, and now it was what made her chase after Malfoy, carefully, to see where he went.

It must have been intuition, because she saw him enter the infirmary. Uh-oh. Did he go in there to call her a Mudblood again? He better not. If he did….Ginny clenched her teeth and squared her shoulders.

"What's it?" A voice asked. "You ran out of there like you were ready to charge." Harry informed her.

"Oh." She watched Malfoy disappear into the infirmary with narrowed eyes.

Harry followed her gaze, and saw it too. His eyes widened. "That…that…that bloody cheating _weasel_!" He growled, and went to get Ron, Seamus, and Dean so they could go pound Malfoy to a pulp.

Feeling a whole lot better, Ginny continued on to her dormitory.

--

"Is everyone ready?" Harry asked.

Club Gryff had met for the second time, and it had been the day before Hermione was being let out of the infirmary. They had planned everything out—a little party, per say, to celebrate Hermione being healthy again. They had all missed her more than they would admit.

All they needed was Hermione. Ginny was going to get her, and bring her back to the Gryffindor Common Room. Gathered there were all of them, plus Angylin, who Lavender had decided couldn't be left out. She wasn't invited to Club Gryff, yet, but it would be rude to not invite her seeing as how she was part of Gryffindor house, and she would be in the common room anyways.

Hermione entered the common room about five minutes later, looking slightly disheveled and out of it, but for the most part, okay. Her skin didn't have its natural, healthy glow, and her face looked tired, and her shoulders sagged, but at least a smile came on her face when she saw everyone gathered there.

"Surprise!" They all yelled at the same time. It had been Parvati's idea: it was kind of corny, but it worked.

Hermione's mouth quivered, and for a second Harry was afraid she would start crying. But then it lifted up, and she said, "Thank you, guys! This is so…sweet…."

Angylin stared at the girl who was standing there, thanking everyone. She had never seen her before, but this must be the infamous Hermione: she had mostly been the object of everyone's thoughts for the past week or so. It was always, have you checked on Hermione? How is Hermione doing? She wasn't sure if this was good or bad, but this Hermione didn't look all that high and mighty right now. Her skin was sallow, her face etched with sadness and stress. Angylin could almost see her standing up straight, glowing, happy, and alive, and she compared that image to the girl standing right there.

The difference was dramatic.

The girl could definitely be pretty. She had a sweet face, and her hair was a deep chestnut color. Even in her obvious and utter unhappiness, her pretty features shone through.

Angylin was pretty sure everyone else noticed, because they had obviously known her before and knew how she looked, while Angylin didn't, but they were pretending they didn't, that she looked completely perfect.

And her voice was surprisingly soft, when she spoke. It sounded tired, like it had been thrown on rocks and then rubbed with soap. It was worn out and tentative, but Angylin could also imagine her being commanding, and talking loudly and firmly, and laughing, and screaming.

But already, Angylin was bored. So the girl got sick. She went to the infirmary. She got better. Did they do this every time someone got a common cold? She assumed not, but what made this Hermione girl so important?

The boys got an Exploding Snap tournament going, and Ginny threw Hermione a Chocolate Frog. They brought out Wizard Chess, too, and soon the party was in full fledge; they even let some other Gryffindors of different years join, if they happened to be coming in right then.

It was obvious this wasn't one of those parties where everyone had a good time and forgot about the guest of honor. Angylin saw one younger girl with long red hair coaxing Hermione to join in more than once, and everyone else helped urge her along. She looked so frail, untrusting, nervous, broken; it was like Lindsay Lohan coming out of rehab. Angylin was going to make that remark, but then she realized that none of these people probably knew who Lindsay Lohan was.

"Angylin?" A voice broke into her thoughts, and she turned to see Lavender standing by her. "Come meet Hermione."

She followed Lavender to Hermione, who was watching Harry and Ron play an intense game of chess, where the pieces actually beat each other up. It was actually pretty entertaining, and Angylin had decided she liked that version better then Muggle chess.

"Hermione?" Lavender tapped Hermione on the shoulder. "This is Angylin Becker. She's new here."

Hermione smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Hi. Nice to meet you." She shook Angylin's hand, and Angylin was surprised at the strength of her hand. She had a newfound respect for the girl as she sat next to her, watching the game of chess.

"Gin?" Hermione turned to the young girl Angylin had seen around so much, but hadn't been introduced to yet. She was pretty sure that her and Ron were related, because of their fiery red hair. "I don't feel so well. I mean…my head…can I…?"

The girl nodded. "You can go sleep in my bed, upstairs—I'll tell everyone where you went. Professor McGonagall said it was okay if you stayed in our dorm tonight. I told her you needed supervision, and Malfoy probably wasn't going to help much there. So she agreed."

Hermione gave the girl a quick hug. "Thanks Ginny. You're wonderful." She turned back to Angylin. "It was so nice to meet you, I'll see you around, okay?" Angylin nodded, and Hermione got up and walked slowly up the stairs, like her legs ached every time she took a step.

The girl—Ginny—sighed, watching Hermione sadly. Angylin had a feeling that Ginny knew her secret, and it was a bad one. Sighing herself, Angylin immersed herself in the chess game, and didn't think about Hermione again for the entire night.

--

Draco entered the Heads' Common Room, half-expecting Granger to be sitting on one of the couches by the fireplace, reading. He had heard that she was getting released that day, and he had finally decided that he was just going to apologize and then go back to ignoring/insulting her. It was easier than admitting he actually felt guilty. And it wasn't like he actually had to _mean_ anything by his apology.

Something ticked inside Draco when he saw the couch empty, though. He felt his heart rate quicken. _Is she still in the Infirmary? Did something happen?_ _Shut _upHe yelled at himself. Why did he care so much? She was out of his hair for an extra day, if she still was in the infirmary. Still, his feet dragged themselves towards the stairs that led to Hermione's dorm, all the while his mind was telling himself to mind his own business.

Still, Draco climbed the stairs and pressed his ear against Hermione's door, straining to hear any sound. No. Silence. A minute, two minutes went by, and he heard nothing. On impulse, he slowly twisted the doorknob and opened it, his heart beating wildly. If she caught him….

Her room was empty. He quickly shut the door and ran back down the stairs, hoping Hermione wouldn't show up behind him and demand to know what he was doing.

So she wasn't even in the Heads' dorm. She hadn't been at dinner; he hadn't seen her since his little trip to the Infirmary had backfired. He was still beating himself up for that: he hadn't even had anything to say.

His sleep was restless, and he kept tossing and turning. Every time he closed his eyes, an image of those haunted brown ones would appear, and that beautiful, heartbreaking face—wait, beautiful? He had just called Her-Granger _beautiful_? He cursed and tried to fall back asleep. What was wrong with him!

It was seven when he awoke. An hour till breakfast. He glanced in the mirror hanging on the wall, and wasn't really surprised at how tired he looked, after that sleepless night. There were purple, bruise-like circles under his eyes, and the gray steel color was duller.

A cold shower woke him up, but did nothing to vanquish his terrible Granger-related thoughts. He couldn't her out of his mind. He was starting to feel like scum, too; his mind kept replaying those scenes with her, when she had really needed someone, _anyone_, and he had just kicked her and left her there.

Refusing to let himself think anymore, he grabbed his bag and headed off to breakfast.


	9. Chapter 9

**Never Lose Strength**

**Chapter 9**

Hermione awoke in Ginny's bed, at exactly seven-thirty a.m. Her mind was whirling, and a huge cloud of nostalgia washed over her. The bed felt so familiar and safe, she just wanted to snuggle in there and wait for forever to be over. All the sleepover parties, jokes, games, and laughter came rushing back at her, and compared to her life for the past few weeks, it was like heaven.

"'Mione!" A voice cried, piercing painfully through her happy thoughts. The voice lowered, apparently seeing her wince. "You're awake."

Hermione recognized Ginny's hair, and her vision cleared a she focused on the girl's face. She realized Ginny had probably slept on the floor, and felt immediately guilty; she was just so sweet, so much like…

Mum. Her face flashed before Hermione's eyes, and she felt like dying again. This was just too much to take. Last night had been nice; _they know what you feel like_, Hermione had told herself, over and over. She had seen the sympathy in Harry and Neville's eyes, the understanding. But this was…was…it was worse to know that it was _your_ fault. Her parents would never have been dragged into the dark, wizarding world if it hadn't been for Hermione.

Pushing the sad thoughts away, Hermione smiled and sat up, feeling the slight head rush, and put her feet over the side of the bed until they hit the floor.

"How do you feel?" Ginny pressed.

"Great," Hermione replied honestly. Through the last, bleak week or so, the recent remembering had been like a taste of sugar. Maybe she could build herself a medicine of memories, pretend she was five years old again, being pushed by her father on their swing set out in the backyard….

Ginny grinned. "Super! Would you like breakfast?"

"Can I go change?" Hermione gestured to her clothes, which she had fallen asleep in the night before.

Ginny nodded. "I'll come." And she led Hermione outside, to the Heads' room. They turned a corner, and Ginny abruptly stopped, pulling Hermione back around the corner. They saw Draco Malfoy come out of the Heads' dorm, his face looking as stone hard as possible, like always. They waited till he was completely gone before walking the rest of the way down the hallway and entering the dorm.

Hermione put on a pair of baggy sweatpants, a t-shirt, and an oversized yet incredibly warm sweatshirt that she had gotten from Yale, the college her dad had gone to, the summer after her fourth year at Hogwarts. It fit her better now than it had before, but it was still big. It was Saturday, so they didn't have classes, and Hermione was looking forward to just hanging out.

They headed down to breakfast together, and Hermione let her mind just go. It felt better than she had in a long time; she felt clear and light and ready for anything. It was nice to feel that sort of power again; she had lost it for a long time.

They reached the Hogwarts lobby, then the Great Hall; her footsteps were sure and quick by now. She could recover. She could do it. Everything was going to be okay, as long as she had Hogwarts, and her friends to run to when things got bad, like now. She just had to get through.

The ceiling seemed to be a good omen; there were lazy clouds, but for the most part, the sun was shining. The clouds that there were, were white and fluffy-looking, and Hermione thought she could make out Crookshanks in one of them. The sky was the prettiest cornflower blue color. Hermione breathed in deeply, and sighed contentedly as she sat between Harry and Ron, in the seat they had saved for her.

To Hermione's utter surprise, Ron put his arm around her. Harry didn't look surprised, at all, and Ginny was giggling a bit: what was going on?

When Ron leaned over to kiss her cheek, she was so startled she practically fell backwards. What was this, some kind of conspiracy? It sure felt like it. She wasn't complaining—Ron was cute—but still….

Ron put his other arm around her, and she let herself lean against him. He removed his other arm so he could eat, so that one arm around was around her waist while she leaned against him. She didn't want hi to get the wrong idea, but it did feel good….

Everyone looked so happy—even Lavender. They all wanted this so bad for her, and she was so touched; but she knew how much Lavender adored Ron, and she didn't want to take anything away from them. They had been nothing but wonderful to her, for so long.

She had no more energy. She fully leaned against him, let him put food in her mouth, and made small talk with everyone.

She didn't notice the gray eyes, boring holes into her back.

--

Draco was so frustrated, he wanted to explode.

Herm—Granger had only been out of the Infirmary for less than a day, and already he was moving in on her, when she was so weak and everything. Couldn't he give her _any_ space to breathe?

_Not jealous_, he thought angrily as he saw Ron holding Her—GRANGER like that, pulling her to him. She wasn't objecting, but she didn't look like she was ready to run to him, either.

He stabbed a piece of egg too hard, and his fork scraped irritably against his plate. He growled once, and to the utter surprise of Pansy, Zabini, Crabbe, and Goyle, got up quickly and left the Great Hall, trying to snuff his thoughts out. Maybe another cold shower would help—maybe.

Not. He emerged from the shower and shook out his white-blonde hair, hoping those thoughts would leave with the water droplets. No such luck. They stayed, stuck, never wanting to move.

He dressed and looked in the mirror, trying to fix his sneer onto his face. But today, it was like it wouldn't come; his face was solidly a frown.

Why did life have to be so goddamn hard?

He finally gave up and just left the room, heading downstairs into the common room. His heart stopped when he saw her: she was curled up on the couch, reading a book, her hair spilling around her face….

Draco tried to look away, but he couldn't. He knew he was staring, but he couldn't help himself; she was just so…so…_cool_, so collected and calm and nothing like she had been before. She seemed like she was lost in a moment, like Draco could grab the moment and stuff it in a bag before it disappeared. She was almost perfectly still. She just looked so perfect.

No. Draco was shocked at himself. Why was he thinking these things? She was a _Mudblood_, for Merlin's sake! Although he could feel something changing within him: almost like it didn't _matter_ anymore. It didn't matter. Hah. That was a thought for a rainy day.

"Do you need something?" Granger's voice cut through the air like a knife, and it was as cold and hard as one, too. The way she talked made Draco's heart flip and jump like a fish out of water; it hurt, that's what it did.

Draco did not reply. He left as quickly as he could, willing the pain to go away.

--

Hermione sighed and kept her eyes trained on her book. It was getting harder for her to concentrate, and she couldn't help but think what was up with Malfoy. He had almost said something to her in the Infirmary, before he had to run for his life, and then he had also just stood there and stared at her for a good five minutes. She could feel his eyes on her, and it had slightly scared her, but she felt better knowing she could make her voice that ice cold for him without trying very hard—she hated him more than she could even grasp. He had sat back while she suffered, and even had the nerve to insult her further; and now if he expected to apologize and everything go back to normal, he had another thing coming. She was not going to cave.

"'Mione!" Ginny came running in the room. Hermione had given her the password. "Come _on_! Everybody's already outside. You should come too! Ron's there." She waggled her eyebrows suggestively.

"Gin," Hermione sighed. "Ron's cute and everything, but I don't know if I'm ready to—"

"Nonsense!" Ginny blustered. "It doesn't have to be serious, or anything. It's all to help you, 'Mione. He'll be there for you."

"But…can't he be there for me without being my boyfriend?" Hermione whispered. She couldn't imagine going out with Ron. It was just so far-fetched.

"He can be there for you in ways that friends can't." Ginny's words were being suggestive again, and it was making Hermione nervous.

No. "No." That was the last straw. "I am not doing anything, _any_thing with Ron. We are just friends." It felt good to be making a decision—to be decisive—to just be strong and firm. Hermione felt her old self; the spunky, rebellious one, coursing through her veins. And it felt _good_.

Ginny sighed. "All right, then. I'd better go let him know, just so he isn't fawning over you like a puppy. Hurry up and get down, all right?"

Hermione nodded, and Ginny left. She went up to her room, brushed her hair quickly, grabbed a scarf, and headed back down. She rounded the corner from her stairs to the common room, and bumped it to something hard, just as she realized the lights in the common room were out.

She looked up into a pair of mesmerizing gray eyes. She had instinctively put her arms on his shoulders to steady herself, and quickly withdrew them; but he grabbed her wrists halfway between them. She felt her heart rate quickening, and she hoped he couldn't hear; she couldn't bear for him to see her vulnerable again.

Her gaze was locked. She couldn't pull away, no matter how she tried; and she couldn't help but feel like she wasn't actually trying very hard. She found her voice. "Malfoy, let go of me." She found her sarcasm: it had been hidden away, but now that her resolve was back, she let it out in full force. _Do not show emotion. Do not show emotion_.

His hands dropped from her wrists, and after one last, long look, she stepped around him and left, leaving him there, standing, alone in the middle of the dark common room.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: You reviewers are amazing and way too generous:) I'm very very sorry about how predictable this story is turning out to be...maybe I'll throw a twist in soon. Or maybe I'll not, and you can just have fun reading it and knowing what's going to happen. Or maybe...hmm...well, you'll just have to read on and see, won't you? Enjoy, R&R!**

**Never Lose Strength**

**Chapter 10**

"Where's Hermione?" Harry asked, seeing Ginny approaching their tree.

"Coming," Ginny assured him. "She just had to fix herself up. Ron, can I talk to you? Over here?" She gestured to her side and began to walk away from the tree, so they wouldn't be overheard.

Harry wondered what Ginny was going to tell Ron: she looked kind of sad, but in a way, relieved, too. It was hard to read with her, even if Harry knew her so well.

They began to walk, Ron's red head almost a whole foot above Ginny's. Harry had to look away to keep from laughing: he bit his lip and turned back to the rest of the group.

"Finding something funny, Harry?" Lavender asked, catching him.

Harry just shrugged and sat down.

"Did you hear?" Parvati suddenly asked. "The Halloween Ball is on the thirtieth of October—I've only just heard, and Dumbledore's still got to make his announcement."

Harry shook his head, disbelieving. Was it _possible_ to keep anything from those girls?

Angylin looked confused. "Halloween Ball?"

"There's balls—dances—during the school year," Lavender explained. "There's the Halloween one, and then the Yule Ball, which is for Christmas."

"Oh? And are these dress-up?"

"Yes!" Parvati and Lavender exclaimed at the same time. Parvati elaborated. "For Halloween, you can obviously dress up in a costume, but the Yule Ball is fully formal attire. Boys ask girls on both occasions."

Angylin frowned. "I see."

"Problem?" Seamus raised an eyebrow at her.

"No." Angylin shrugged. "I'm just not a huge fan of dressing up."

"Tomboy?" Dean smirked.

Angylin growled at him, and the whole group laughed.

Hermione came running across the lawn, then, and even from the distance Harry could tell that she was still worn out: her skin looked sickeningly pale, her cheeks and lips were too thin, her robes hung, billowing, about her frail body. It still nagged at him: what could be the reason for everything? Something had happened, and it had made her completely crack. He had tried to guess a few times, but nothing he thought of made sense.

"Hermione!" Lavender yelled, getting to her feet and running to meet her in a hug. "I've missed you. You left the party early, no?"

Hermione nodded. "I didn't feel good."

Lavender clucked her tongue sympathetically. "You're going to the Halloween Ball, though, right?"

Hermione looked surprised. Of course she did. No one knew about the balls before Lavender and Parvati. "When's that?"

"October the thirtieth." Lavender sounded like she was reading aloud from an invitation.

"Hmm…." Hermione smiled slightly. "I'll have to see."

"'Mione!" Lavender whined. "You have to come!"

Hermione shrugged noncommittally. "I'll let you know."

Lavender let out a huge puff. "Fine. If you must."

Besides that, Harry thought it was a pretty nice, enjoyable afternoon. Everyone got along fine, and Ron wasn't too visibly sulking; while it was, of course, obvious, because Ron being himself wasn't too good at hiding his feelings, he didn't ruin the mood too often. And Harry could pretty much figure out what had ruined his day by the way he seated himself as far away from Ginny and Hermione as possible.

It was his problem, though. He wanted to move in too fast, and he got his consequence. Besides that, though, Harry enjoyed himself, indeed.

--

"Did you _hear_?" Pansy cried out. "The Halloween Ball! Draco, will you go with me?"

Draco rolled his eyes and looked down at his dinner plate. "Dunno."

Pansy's eyes grew wide. "Is there someone else?" She gasped, her voice almost at a shriek.

"For Merlin's sake, Pansy, keep it down!" He snapped at her. He wasn't in a good mood, and the way the girl made it so obvious that she was an airhead annoyed him to no end. "You'll wake the dead with a voice like that."

Pansy sniffed and turned to talk to someone else, leaving Draco to Zabini.

"Why're you not going with Parkinson?" Blaise asked him. "_Is_ there someone else?"

Draco sighed. Blaise Zabini was probably his closest friend, but since he didn't really understand his crazy, mixed up feelings himself, he didn't want to tell anyone else just yet. "No. I'm not sure if I'll go, though."

"Not go? To the Halloween Ball?"

"That's what I said, isn't it?" Draco shot back. He was tired of this. They all just needed to leave him alone—even Blaise.

He shrugged and turned to talk to someone else, too.

Good. Quiet. Crabbe and Goyle were caught up in their own thug conversation, which left Draco to his thoughts: which was when he realized he didn't want to be left to his thoughts. He frantically looked around for someone to talk to, but everyone was already otherwise engaged.

For the second time, he got up and left in the middle of the meal; this time, however, not so many people noticed until he was already at the doors. But when he turned around, he caught someone's eyes: one girl, in particular. He tried not to stay there, tried to move on or move through, but his eyes were locked, and he couldn't go until she looked away.

He couldn't take it. He ripped his gaze away, and darted through the doors.

--

_He was looking right at me._

Hermione felt her heart stop, skitter, stop again, and then restart. What was up with Malfoy? He was scaring her, that's what it was. Every time she walked through a dark corridor to get to a class, she found herself looking over her shoulder, afraid that he would be there, staring at her with his steely eyes. He was creeping her out. She couldn't figure out what he wanted, either.

She needed to get this over with. It was causing too much stress on her, and she figured if she just handled it now, it would probably wear her down less than if the whole glancing-over-the-shoulder, living-in-constant-fear thing kept up.

"I feel kind of dizzy," Hermione lied. "I think I'm going to go up to bed."

Ginny nodded sympathetically. "Okay. Do you want me to come—"

"No, no," Hermione quickly said. "I'll be fine."

"Are you sure? I can take you up, too. Or if you want dinner later—" Harry began. Hermione couldn't help but feel her heart warm at his words. He was such a good friend; he had noticed that she had barely touched her dinner.

"I can get something later at the kitchens," Hermione assured him. "Or there still is the kitchen in my dorm."

"Right, right." Harry nodded. "Well, night, then."

"Night, everyone." Hermione nodded and left the Great Hall.

Outside, everything seemed sinister. She resented the shadows, hated the way they danced in the muted light. Her heart jumped every time she rounded a corner, but every time, the corridor was empty.

She was beginning to lose hope as she roamed through as many hallways as she could, feeling her hair standing at the back of her neck. What if he hadn't meant for her to follow? What if he had gone back to the Great Hall?

The portrait moved aside as soon as she said her password, and she crawled through into the Heads' common room. Empty. Pained, and suddenly tired, she began to walk up the steps towards her room. She was almost certain she had seen him telling her to come—but maybe she was just delusional. She would have to ask Madame Pomfrey; maybe it was an aftereffect of her disease or whatever.

"Wait."

The word cut through the thick air and reached Hermione's ears. It felt like it was at a thousand decibels, screaming into her ear, after such long moments of silence. She halted, halfway up the steps, and began to walk slowly back down.

There he was. The only light in the common room was by fireplace, and he looked so eerie, half of him lit, half of him in shadow. The flames danced across his face, and his eyes were so steely, so unfamiliar. They scared her, so badly.

But she couldn't let her fear of him show. When she spoke, she tried to make her words as hard and clear and unwavering as possible. Her throat clenched, but she fought to unclench it, and finally her words came out, just as she had intended them: "What do you want from me, Malfoy?"

Strange emotions crossed over Malfoy's eyes. She might have been able to read them, had it been Harry, or Ron, but this was on totally neutral ground, and she knew nothing of Malfoy, nor did she really want to know him. He was still just as foreign to her as he had always been.

He crossed the room in such long, quick strides that Hermione barely had time to react before he was standing less than a foot away. Closer, now…Hermione could only stand, stare, rooted to the spot, as he came closer and closer. She felt the fear rising in her throat until she could almost taste it, salty sweet, telling her to go, run, anywhere, anywhere but here.

And then, still before she could react, something else happened. At first, she couldn't comprehend; not when Malfoy's head was bending down, or when his eyes were looking intently into hers, or not even when his surprisingly soft lips pressed onto hers. She could only watch, helpless, as if this were happening to someone else, and not her.

The fire that exploded from within her scared her more than Malfoy had. It burst through every one of her senses and nearly blinded her, simmering and steaming through her veins. And then her vision cleared, even when the feeling didn't, and she pushed away from Malfoy, using his chest as leverage; as soon as they disconnected, the feeling vanished.

Everything about this was alien to her, and it was scaring the hell out of her.

So she turned and ran.

Hermione Granger was not a runner, but in this case, she had no idea what else to do. Her mind couldn't even process what was happening: it was so far-fetched, so unreal, that it didn't, couldn't be happening.

So she got up to her room and shut the door and leaned against it, breathing hard, trying to calm herself down. _Breathe in, breathe out._

Why do you do this to me, Malfoy? She wanted to ask. She glanced in the mirror, and saw that her face was even whiter than before; her freckles stood out more prominently, and her eyes were wide with shock.

She fell onto her bed as a new realization struck.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Hello, all. My reviewers are amazing. I'd just like to let you know that this story is going to get a little more predictable before I throw in a twist. The next four or so chapters are already written, and I had done that before I had an idea to make it not such a mainstream story, and I don't really feel like deleting all that hard work. So I'm going to post and you tell me what you think. Just heads up, though--it doesn't get majorly interesting/different until chapter 15-ish. Keep R&Ring! **

**Never Lose Strength**

**Chapter 11**

"You think she's okay?" Ron asked.

Ginny tilted her head to the side. "I've no idea. You want to go check on her?"

Ron pursed his lips and shook his head.

Ginny shrugged. At least Ron had swallowed his pride and asked about her: for the past half hour, she had seen him constantly check the time and glance at the doors of the Great Hall.

Breakfast ended, and the crowd dispersed. Ginny checked quickly, and was relieved to see that the silver-haired snake was with everyone, though he didn't look too much of … well, anything. His expression was purely blank. At least he was there—that meant he couldn't be tormenting Hermione. "I think I'll go check on her, then." She decided.

"You'll miss…whatever class you have next," Harry reminded her, putting an arm around her waist.

"Yes…well…Professor McGonagall will excuse me, I hope. I have Transfiguration." Ginny told him.

Harry put one shoulder up in a shrug. "All right, then. I'll catch up with you later." He gave her a quick kiss, and headed off in his own direction with Ron.

Ginny prayed that they hadn't changed the Heads' dorms' password. She climbed the stairs and took the now-familiar corridors, all the while hoping. She reached the portrait and said the password, and…

Yes! Silently screaming in victory, she fell through the hole into the common room.

It was so eerie. The fireplace burned low, and the entire room was dark and shadowy. It was completely silent, too, and even as the sunlight slanted thickly through the windows, the place gave an air of secrecy.

"'Mione?" Ginny called weakly, more for her own benefit than Hermione's. She quickened her pace towards Hermione's stairs, praying that her friend was in her room. "Hermione!" She called louder.

Up the steps, open the door….

Hermione was sleeping. What else would she be doing? Ginny calmed her frantic heart. "Herm?" Ginny gently prodded the girl, who rolled over. Her eyes slowly fluttered open. "It's Ginny."

Hermione instantly sat up, but then groaned and slowly laid back down. "Gin? What are you…why…what did…."

"You missed breakfast," Ginny informed her. "Now come on, get dressed. You'll miss all your classes!"

"Oh!" Hermione sat up again, and scurried around, getting herself together, while Ginny patiently waited.

"McGonagall will give us excuses for our first classes…but we're on our own for the rest," Ginny warned her more than once.

"Have I missed anything else?" Hermione asked, indicating the night before.

"No. We all just hung out in the common room."

Hermione nodded, and followed Ginny out the door.

--

Draco looked around the classroom. His fears—no, suspicions—were confirmed; Granger was probably still up in her room, crying or breaking down or doing whatever she had been doing a lot recently.

Whatever. If she was going to be that touchy…but yet…he had….

Trying not to think about what he had done, Draco looked down at his Potions book. This was his favorite class; he should at least _try_ to appear content. He glanced up at Professor Snape, knowing that even if he didn't perform so well, he would give him full marks.

"Today," Professor Snape began, "We are going to be learning how to make a luck potion—Felix Felicis. It's a very powerful potion, and very hard to brew. We're only making small quantities for each of you—though I don't suppose any of you will manage to make it right."

Draco's ears practically lifted. Luck potion? He could use some of that. He immediately opened his textbook and began brewing.

At the end of the hour, his potion was looking correctly golden and bubbly: he looked hopefully at Snape as he came around to check progress. "Atrocious—not even close—do you read instructions, boy?" Draco heard the professor saying as he passed everyone by.

Professor Snape leaned over Draco's cauldron, and stared into its depths. Then he shook his head. "Wrong." But Draco felt something being pressed into his hand under the table; by the time he looked, Snape had already moved on. But it was a small bottle of Felix Felicis, made the right way. Draco smirked.

Draco saw Harry look over, see the bottle, and growl. His smirk widened. _Take that, Potter_, he thought, thinking of all the things he could do with this potion. Everything he tried while he was under its influence would be lucky.

Strangely, only one thought was going through his mind; or not strangely, after the past couple of weeks. But he knew what he was going to use this potion for, and there was never any doubt in his mind.

--

"That ruddy, filthy _Malfoy_!" Ron was yelling. It was lunch, and Hermione was there as well.

Harry nodded in agreement. "His potion was wrong too! But Snape gave him some of it, anyways. How's that for unfair?" He took a ferocious bite of mashed potatoes.

Hermione smiled sympathetically. "It's all right," She assured them, and then stopped talking and continued eating.

Ron and Harry exchanged an incredulous glance. The old Hermione would have been piping mad by then—why was she so calm? There was an _old_ Hermione? Harry rubbed his forehead. When had she changed? After the whole fiasco?

Harry turned his head to Ginny, who was sitting next to him, but she shrugged; apparently she didn't know what was going on, either.

"Hey, 'Mione," Harry ventured. "You feeling all right?"

Hermione looked up, surprised. "Yes, fine. Why, is something wrong?"

"No, no. Just checking."

"Well…okay. That's sweet of you." Hermione smiled a bit, and then turned to talk to Lavender.

--

Ginny had a very bad, bad feeling.

She wasn't sure exactly what it was, or what it was about, but it was there, growing in the pit of her stomach. It was like some sort of dread, like her stomach was sensing that something bad was going to happen soon.

Argh.

_Don't be about Harry_, she prayed. She didn't want him to break up with her—not just yet, at least, if he really had to. She had been sincerely hoping that they could last at least till the end of school, or till when Harry had to leave. If he decided to stop seeing her then, then she wouldn't argue. But she was ready to put up a fight if he wanted to dump her right then.

And yet…it just couldn't be about Harry. Things were too perfect between them. It was about something else, she just couldn't put her finger on it yet.

Ginny quickened her step in the mostly empty corridor to catch up to Hermione, who was heading in the same direction as her. "Hey," Ginny greeted. "How are you?"

"Fine, thanks," Hermione replied, smiling.

Okay, why was the dread growing at massive sizes? Ginny felt almost a shudder go through her, she was so nervous. Her anxiety obviously had something to do with Hermione. Was she going to have another breakdown? Ginny froze as she remembered the reason for Hermione's first breakdown, which still nobody knew about except for her, Dumbledore, and McGonagall. Did Hermione have any siblings? Ginny quickly scanned through everything Hermione had ever told her: she was pretty sure the girl was an only child.

"So, are you going to the Halloween Dance?"

The corner of Hermione's mouth lifted a bit. "Not sure quite yet. Are you going?"

Ginny nodded fervently. "Fully dateless, too! The guys have agreed to let us go without dates, you know, so we can just have fun. Not too much, though." She paused to giggle. "I'm going to go as a Muggle witch, with a pointed hat and everything."

Hermione giggled a bit, too. "Really? If I do go, I might go as Elizabeth Swann."

Ginny looked confused. "Elizabeth Swann?" She repeated.

Hermione sighed—it hadn't occurred to her before that nobody would understand her costume. "There is a movie in the Muggle world called the Pirates of the Caribbean. Elizabeth Swann is the heroine, and I'd like to go as her, if I go."

"You _have_ to go!" Ginny pressed. "I won't go if you don't."

Hermione's mouth dropped open. "Ginevra Weasley! You do _not_ bully me into things like that!"

Letting her mouth close, Ginny smiled triumphantly. At least she had successfully gotten some of the old Hermione back; Ron and Harry had been seriously concerned when Hermione had failed to dish out some scathing remark when they told their story about Malfoy and the luck potion.

"I'll think on it," Hermione promised, because they had come to the end of the corridor and had to part.

Ginny nodded, and went off in her direction, not seeing that Hermione had come to a dead halt and was staring into the shadows.


	12. Chapter 12

**Never Lose Strength**

**Chapter 12**

"She might go!" Ginny was red-cheeked with excitement.

At first, Harry was utterly confused. But then he figured the 'she' was Hermione, and the go where was….

"She even has a costume picked out," Ginny continued. "Which is why I'm pretty sure she's going to go in the end."

Ron visibly perked up, although Harry could tell he was trying to hide it.

Harry was glad himself—although he hoped Hermione wasn't jumping into too much excitement, too fast. He still didn't know what the reason for Hermione's breakdown was, but he was fast getting a picture: Ginny was dropping him subtle hints from time to time. The one that had hit home was when Harry had said, "I wish someone could go talk to her," and Ginny had told him, "You relate to her most, right now. She's no different than you."

At first, Harry had been confused, but it was slowly becoming clearer. He didn't really have a solid idea yet, though.

Hopefully it would come soon. If Ginny was right—if he was the only one that could really relate to her—then he hoped that he would be able to, and soon. Because while she had on a cover of being okay again, he could tell that she was just as bad as she had been those couple days in the infirmary.

--

Hermione swallowed and waited till Ginny was out of earshot before speaking. "I know you're there," she whispered, her voice catching.

Even though she knew it, she really did, she felt her heartbeat quickening as he stepped out of the shadows, his silvery hair and steely eyes so mysterious, so beau—so….

"Why…?" She began, but she couldn't get the question out. It was stuck in her throat, and she couldn't force it free. It raced through her mind a million times, however: _Why are you following me?_

His gaze didn't waver. He kept walking towards her, and she instinctively took a step backwards: he didn't stop walking, though.

Hermione glanced behind. The corridor was completely empty, and freakishly dark. At least her wand was still with her, she thought fervently. She could hex him into oblivion if she had to. But she wouldn't, not yet; because as much as she didn't want to admit it, she was almost curious—almost.

And still, he wasn't speaking. He closed the distance between them, so that Hermione had to look upwards to see his face. It was completely expressionless: but there was something in his eyes, something she had never seen before, and something that scared everything right out of her….

"What do you want, Malfoy?" She tried again, but her voice was so weak and childish that even she would have laughed at herself, had it been different circumstances. And Hermione Granger did not laugh at herself very much.

Again, he did not answer. Instead, he leaned downwards.

Something inside Hermione's head snapped, and she didn't have the strength to fight him anymore. Her body suddenly crumpled, and she fell against his hard chest, almost unconscious.

She couldn't see his face. Her brain was a jumble of mismatched thoughts, and she couldn't but anything together. All she knew was that she was so, so tired, and she wished…she wished….

Malfoy's arms were around her. They were so strong and warm—

No! Hermione tried to pull away, but a combination of her lack of strength and Malfoy's excess of it kept her there. She didn't really want to fight anymore, anyhow; maybe she was drunk, but it felt kind of nice there. She could imagine just staying in that warm, dark place and forgetting the world.

But this was Malfoy! The same Malfoy that had tormented her for practically her whole life, the one who had always told her she wasn't good enough…she tried to pull away again, but the halfhearted attempt backfired, and she crashed further into his arms.

Every last ounce of her energy drained away.

That was when the first tears came. Hermione had thought she was fully dry of tears, but apparently not, because they fell out of her eyes now, streaming down her face, falling onto Malfoy's robes. And then she felt something that knocked her breath away: Malfoy's hand was circling her hair, smoothing it, comforting her. Malfoy. Was. Comforting. Her.

It was too much to take, but at the moment, he was all she had. So she clung to him for dear life, and let her heart empty itself once more.

--

"Angylin?" Ron tapped her tentatively on the shoulder.

Angylin turned around, surprised. They were in the library, and everyone was speaking in hushed tones. "Yes?"

"Can you help me with the Charms homework?" His smile was sheepish, and Angylin knew that he didn't really need help on his Charms homework.

Wasn't he with that girl—Hermione? Oh, no, they had broken up, or Hermione had said no, or…. Angylin shrugged. He was cute enough, and he seemed sweet, so why should she say no? "Sure." She gave him a grin. "What do you need help with?" She scooted her chair over to his table.

By the time Harry showed up, they were both laughing so hard they were practically falling off their chairs. Ron's face was fully red from trying to contain his laughter, because Madame Pince kept looking over at them and giving them the evil eye.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Have I interrupted something?" He asked, waiting for their laughter to die down.

"No," Ron shook his head, and his voice was high and squeaky because he was still trying not to laugh.

This set on new waves, and both he and Angylin were deeply into laughter again. Harry rolled his eyes, sighed, got up, and left for class without him.

--

"Did you see them?" Parvati whispered to Lavender.

Lavender nodded. "They were practically snogging."

They were sitting on Lavender's bed in the Gryffindor dorm, making Halloween costumes. They were both going as cats, and their costumes were extremely similar, besides color.

"Poor Hermione." Parvati shook her head, pointing her wand and tightening up a stitch. "She's not even got a chance—always up in her room. Wonder what's got her all like that."

"She said no," Lavender pointed out. "To Ron—although I don't think it's fair that he's got to another girl so quickly, and the new girl, at that. He's got no conscience, that boy." Clearly she was remembering when she had gone out with him.

"A mistake," Parvati agreed. "I'll warn Hermione to stay away from him, no?"

Lavender nodded. "Yeah, do that. She doesn't deserve any more heartbreak."

"Speaking of, what d'you think happened to her?"

And they launched into their theories, ranging from losing a pet to being pregnant.

--

Angylin could barely stand up, her stomach hurt so bad. At least she had finally found a really good, funny person in this drab school. She had a feeling that that Harry Potter was usually a fun person, but had gotten weighed down by Hermione's sickness or whatever. But Ron, it didn't seem like he was letting it affect him too much.

At least one person in Gryffindor wasn't acting like they were on Death Row.

Angylin had almost decided to ask for special lessons from Ron on her magic—it by no means was up to speed with what her classes expected of her. She had already explained her situation to Dumbledore, who had shook his head at the mistakes the magical system could make. But still, she didn't really know all the complex spells that they were supposed to do, and while she was fairly sure Harry or Hermione would be a better teacher, she didn't know if she could trust them.

The two Giggling Girls, as Angylin called them, passed her by, and sneered at her, their gazes full of hate.

Angylin tilted her head to the side. What? What had she done? She narrowed her eyes. They weren't going to get away with this. She jumped into their path, halting them. They were still looking at her like she was dirt. "What? What's with the evil looks?"

Lavender snorted. "Like you don't know," She muttered, and tried to go around. But Angylin was quick on her feet—she stopped them easily.

"Yeah, I don't know."

"Why don't you go ask _Ron_?" Parvati told her disgustedly. "He'd sure be happy to tell you."

Angylin relaxed her stance. "Oh. _Oh_. What's this got to do with Ron?" She demanded, for good measure.

"This's got everything to do with Ron!" Lavender exploded. "What do you think you're doing, taking advantage of him? While Hermione's still practically dead? Who do you think you are?"

"_I_ didn't ask him to talk to me," Angylin shot back, though she felt the familiar pounding in the back of her head that was her stupid conscience, telling her it really _was_ unfair, what she was doing. But it wasn't her fault! "He asked me! And I don't know about your friend, I don't know her, so how am I supposed to know she likes him?"

Lavender's face just got, if possible, more revolted. "Leave us alone."

Angylin wasn't about to give in to those two. She held her head high and stepped right between them, temporarily separating them. _Oh no, they're going to die_! She thought, snickering.

She had a free period: she was just wandering. The school was so big, confusing, magical, appalling. She had stared at the ceiling of the Great Hall for so long at her first meal. And the staircases were alive, and the paintings! Even photos in newspapers moved. She wondered what it felt like; did a person know what they were doing in a photograph, did they feel it, while they went about their daily business? She put the question away to ask Harry later; he had been in the newspaper tons of times, according to Ron.

And then Angylin turned a corner into a dark hallway and stopped short. She recognized that bushy hair, even if she had only seen the girl around a couple times—and hadn't Ron said she was supposed to watch out for a boy with silvery hair? Why were the two all caught up together?

The boy's eyes snapped up and caught her gaze. They were steely gray, and so powerful that she almost felt herself being pushed backwards. He obviously wanted her to just disappear. And his face was so…so…

Angylin turned and, by God, she ran.


	13. Chapter 13

**Never Lose Strength**

**Chapter 13**

"Hermione? Come on, we're going to the dorm."

Hermione heard the voice as if from so far away: like in the past few minutes, layer after layer of plaster had been laid over her head. The voice destroyed some of the plaster, but some was still there, stuffing her.

She allowed herself to be led, and felt like a rag doll. Malfoy was practically dragging her. They reached the portrait, and it swung open, admitting them; Malfoy kept his arm around her as they approached the couch, and then he gently laid her down on it.

Gently.

Malfoy was being gentle with her.

"Malfoy…why…are you…." She tried to say, but her mouth was so dry, her throat so parched from her silent sobs.

He knelt beside her. "Shh, just go to sleep now."

The last thing she saw before she drifted off was his eyes, full of that something again.

She had sweet dreams that night.

--

She awoke in a huge rush, her mind collapsing in on itself. She saw the familiar colors of the Heads' common room, and turned in her position on the couch.

There was a tray on a table near her. There was a note, too, that Hermione could kind of read from there:

Hermione—

I've gotten you breakfast, because you missed. I'll be back soon.

—D.M.

Hermione gasped as everything came tumbling back. Why was Malfoy being so _nice_ to her? If there was one thing she had never expected Malfoy to be, it was nice.

_Hermione_. She felt her body stiffen—he had called her Hermione. He had done that last night, too, when she had…she had…

Her heart grew cold as she remembered what had happened the night before. He would never let her live it down. He would call her a baby, and horrible names, and poke fun at her, and—

Never had she wanted the floor to open and swallow her up more than at that moment. The thought of Malfoy's wrath shook her into dry sobs that racked her body and made her think of how atrociously weak she had gotten in the past few weeks.

She curled up her body, pulling it close.

She heard the portrait swinging open and then shut as someone entered. She knew who it would be—and she wasn't in the mood.

--

Angylin knocked straight into Dumbledore, and rocked backwards, rubbing her head. Then she started and looked up. "Sorry, sir,"

Dumbledore smiled, his baby blue eyes twinkling behind his half-moon glasses. "It's all right, my dear. Now, what's the business you have with me?"

Angylin suddenly felt very young as she thought of a way to put it. "You know Hermione Granger," She finally began, and when he nodded she started to continue.

Dumbledore cut her off. "Let's go in my office, shall we?" And he led the way. He muttered a password and the gargoyle that McGonagall had told her about opened, leading to a staircase, and then eventually his office, which Angylin couldn't stop staring at.

She forced herself to sit down, though, and keep talking. "I've a mind to go talk to her—I'm afraid I've managed to hurt her a bit." She bit her lip, hoping Dumbledore wouldn't ask how. "Can I have her password, so I can go talk to her? I don't think she'll be coming out anytime soon."

"I suggest you go talk to Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore told her. "He's got the password as well. I'm afraid I can't disclose it to you, but if need be I can come open the portrait for you."

Angylin bit her lip again. Talk to him? After he had seen her, and…she was sure he would kill her if she came near him again.

"Intimidated by him?" Dumbledore smiled. "I've a feeling this goes deeper than just intimidation…in which case I'll open it for you myself. Is it true?"

Angylin nodded. For some reason, she wanted to tell him everything now. "He looked like he was going to kill me…." She whispered, thinking back to his cold, hard eyes.

Dumbledore got up. "Come on, then."

Angylin followed him out.

--

When Hermione saw who it really was, her mind froze in surprise.

What was that new girl doing here? Hermione couldn't even remember her name. She had only met her once, and even then, she hadn't really talked to her…so what was she doing here?

"Hi," The girl said awkwardly. "I'm Angylin. I don't know if you remember me…."

She paused, and Hermione quickly nodded, feeling a headache coming on. She forced herself to sit up, though.

"I have to talk to you…about…Ron…." Angylin took a deep breath.

"Sit down," Hermione managed to croak, and gestured to all the chairs scattered around. Angylin chose a seat and took it.

"He's nearly asked me out," Angylin finally said, deciding Hermione was more of a straight to the point girl.

Hermione smiled, and for once it was genuine. "That's wonderful." And she really meant it—not just for her own purposes, either. Angylin seemed like a nice girl.

"Really?" She lifted her eyes to meet Hermione's, and Hermione could see how bright they had gotten.

Hermione nodded, confused. "Yes. Why wouldn't I be happy?"

"Lavender and Parvati…." She trailed off and looked at the floor. "They said…."

Hermione felt her anger rise, and unknowingly her fists clenched. "They said _what_?" Although she very well knew what they had said.

"They said you were going out with him, and then they told me I was no good and terrible for liking him." And then her eyes grew wide and she clapped a hand over her mouth.

They regarded each other, and suddenly Hermione burst out laughing. She had a feeling that this was the side of Angylin people didn't usually see—kind of like her, with Harry and Ron. And now Draco. They saw the vulnerable her, and this was the vulnerable Angylin. It was like a bond was formed between them just for that. And then this whole situation was funny. Angylin liked Ron, Ron—well, who knew with Ron—and Hermione was glad that Ron had moved on. And Lavender and Parvati, they were just delusional.

And like a flash, they were talking about other things, and other things, and they were laughing and almost crying and…and…

Hermione even told Angylin all about Malfoy. She surprised herself—going and trusting an almost complete stranger like that. But in return, Angylin told her things. And Hermione felt herself relaxing; a part of her just really had trusted Angylin from the moment she saw her. And she knew it was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

"I'm glad," Hermione said, when Angylin had said she had to get going. "That you came by. It's a nice change from Harry and Ron." And then she smiled widely, and Angylin smiled back, and Hermione felt a whole lot better.


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: **

**Firnoviel--Hermione didn't collapse this last time for any particular reason. It was just her shock at Malfoy being there so much, and her being overwhelmed by how different he was acting. Nobody else had really let her have a cry on their shoulder, and she needed it badly. Is that the time you were asking about? Draco is mad because Angylin almost interrupted his moment with Hermione; he is a very extreme person, and he gets angry easily. Angylin just was very intimidated by the look in his eyes, like he was going to kill her, and she had never really dealt with such a strong hate so she was scared to go near him again. And Draco would think Hermione was a baby for crying in his arms in chap 12, so she didn't want to face him again. Hope I cleared that up for you!**

**Everyone else, thanks for the reviews and I looove them and keep them coming!  
**

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**  
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**Never Lose Strength**

**Chapter 14**

Harry groaned when he saw Malfoy coming towards him. "Come on, let's go," He said, ushering Ginny, Ron, and Angylin away from the willow tree.

"Hey, Potty!" Malfoy yelled. "Where do you think you're going?"

Harry bared his teeth. What did the little dirt bag want?

"Get lost, Malfoy," He told him.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "What, I'm not good enough for you? You'd like me to grovel at your feet?"

"Malfoy…." Harry said warningly.

"What?" Malfoy mocked him. "Are you going to hex me? Your little muddy friend isn't here to help you."

"_Don't_ say that," Harry hissed.

Malfoy's smirk widened. "Do you know where she was last night?"

Harry shook his head, wondering where this was leading.

"She was with—"

Angylin lifted her wind and yelled the first thing that came to her mind—she had seen Harry practicing it on Ron, and vice versa. Malfoy was lifted by his ankle by an invisible rope, and was suspended in the air, dangling. Ginny, Ron, and Harry burst out laughing, while Angylin tried to calm her racing heart.

Angylin's eyes caught Malfoy's again, and once again she almost took a step backwards from the sheer power of it. But she was slightly prepared this time: she shot back her own gaze, full of everything that she thought of him, which included words like _two-faced_ and _dirty lying cheater_.

Ron, Harry, and Ginny were headed off to the Ravenclaw vs. Hufflepuff Quidditch game, but Angylin quickly said that she didn't feel good and headed back into the castle. She took all the stairs two or three at a time, and when she finally stopped outside the Heads' portrait, she was gasping for breath and barely managed to choke out the password.

The portrait wouldn't open for her.

Angylin swore. Malfoy must have changed the password so she couldn't get inside and tell Hermione that he was going to tell everyone she had cried in his arms. She couldn't even find words vile enough to describe him. She wheeled around again and headed to the Quidditch pitch, searching for Malfoy. Her anger was growing with every step: why did people like him even exist? She took a flying whack at a nearby tree, and the pain didn't even register. Good. The demon was about to be released. _You messed with the wrong person_, she thought, anger fueling her adrenaline. This was why she had been expelled from her old school, but it didn't even matter anymore. Nothing mattered, except her fist and Malfoy's face.

She was the lone Gryffindor squishing through the Slytherin stands; they sneered at her and pushed her, asking why she dared to come there. But she didn't answer. She had her gaze fixed on that one, silver-haired boy, forever flanked by those two thugs of his. But they were dumber than doorknobs, and she wouldn't have a problem with them.

Malfoy turned just as her fist sailed, and they collided in a single, perfect, crunching instant, in which Angylin felt her heart soar and her adrenaline peak. And then Malfoy was falling, and she stood with an air of triumph, and the first pain hit.

Lobster—was that his name?—had punched her in the stomach almost instantly. But she didn't crumple, like she wanted to; she refused to sink to Malfoy's level on any terms. Instead she fought back, landing a well-thought-out blow to each that had them down in seconds, rolling around like babies and whining.

"Don't you ever, _ever_ mess with her again. _Ever_! Got it?" She demanded, putting her boot on Malfoy's head. And then she whipped around and walked straight into Professor Dumbledore.

--

Hermione heard the portrait yelling, and knew someone was trying to get in—Pansy Parkinson, no doubt. She had tried to fight her way into the Heads' dorm so many times that it wasn't even entertaining anymore.

The window was open in the common room, and she could hear the cheering and opening commentary coming from the Quidditch field. She wanted to be there so badly—and yet, she was still so confused, so awestruck, so jumbled. She was lonely, and yet she felt like she just needed to be alone for a while.

She got up and wandered to the window, wondering if she could see the match from her window. No luck; the window was facing the wrong direction. She went up the stairs to her room, but still, no luck. Wonderingly she went through the attached bathroom to Malfoy's room, and glanced out his window. She gasped. There was a perfect view of the Quidditch field, and she could almost see the expressions on the players' faces as they whizzed around. She reckoned she probably had a better view than most of the spectators down at the pitch.

"Is there a problem?" A familiar voice drawled, and Hermione jumped a mile. She hadn't seen him since that morning.

"I was watching the Quidditch game," Hermione told him, gesturing out the window.

Malfoy sneered at her. "Get out."

"But I—"

"Get _out_, Mudblood."

Hermione's mouth dropped open, and she turned around, and gasped. His whole face was bloody, and his nose looked broken. He looked terrible.

Even then, what was his problem? Why was he having such sudden mood swings? Just when she thought maybe they could be friends, or anything better than enemies, he had to go and insult her in the worst way.

And then her jaw tightened. She wouldn't let herself be pushed around like that: either he wanted to be civil towards her, or he didn't. If he didn't, he had that night against her now…but she refused to think of it. She would find a moment of vulnerability on his part, and then they would be equally dangerous to each other. But until then, no matter how nice he was, she vowed to never, ever trust him, and absolutely never put down her exterior in front of him.

--

"That was a bloody well-placed blow!" Ron said incredulously. They were at dinner in the Great Hall, after the match had finished, and after Angylin had gone into Dumbledore's office for a bit.

Harry nodded in agreement. "Where'd you learn to hit like that?"

Angylin shrugged, smirking a little. "I have three older brothers." As if that explained everything.

Ron stared at her. She was so…so…_different_. She definitely wasn't perfect to look at, but she was cute, and wild, and spontaneous, and…even _Hermione_ wouldn't have gone and punched Malfoy like that, in front of the whole entire school. They couldn't even get a reason out of her.

"So tell me," Ron tried again, "Why'd you do it?"

"I felt like it." She looked back down, and grew aware that everyone was still staring at her. She glanced back up. "He bothers me," She elaborated in a low voice, as if it was a deep, dark secret of hers.

"Great, let's all go punch him silly," Lavender said sarcastically. She and Parvati didn't hate her so much anymore, not since Hermione had cleared everything up for them, but they definitely didn't like her and didn't make any attempt to hide it. Well, it was more like Lavender; Parvati was neutral; but she and Lavender were too good of friends for Parvati to not dislike Angylin at least just a little.

Angylin angrily got up. "If you think it's a joke, then you're no good of a friend to Hermione!" She yelled, and left as quickly as she could. She stopped outside the Great Hall, her heart beating hard; sometimes her anger scared her. It ate up everything good inside her, and she couldn't force it to spit it back out.

She remembered when she had gone into Dumbledore's office, and recalled spilling everything to him. He had been super sympathetic—he had agreed to let it slide if nothing like that ever happened again. _I can't promise that_, Angylin had thought, but she had nodded and left. Nothing like that could have ever happened at her old school(s). She was beyond grateful that Dumbledore was Headmaster here.

Maybe Hermione was still in the Heads' common room, and if Angylin yelled loud enough, she would hear her—nobody else would be disturbed, because all the other students were at dinner. She quickly retraced the now-familiar route to the Heads' dorm, and halted outside the portrait.

"Yes?" Today, it was the kind old lady that was dressed like something out of the Renaissance. The object of the portrait was ever-changing; the Heads probably had to memorize what the password was for each character. This lady was the most frequent, though, and Angylin felt her heart soar: maybe Malfoy hadn't changed the password—maybe it was just different for each person.

She quickly said the password that Hermione had given her, because the Renaissance lady had been the person that was there when she had gotten in. The lady swung forward, smiling, and Angylin scrambled through, afraid it would swing back shut before she could get through.

"'Moine?" Angylin called tentatively. "Are you here?"

"Up here!" Came the voice.

Angylin ran up the stairs that led to Hermione's room. "Hermione, why are you still here? Aren't you hungry for—" She paused as she saw the tray of food sitting on Hermione's bed.

"Malfoy's been bringing me meals," Hermione admitted softly. "He's been so nice…but…he came in here with a bloodied up face and he got mean again."

Angylin's mouth dropped open. How could she be so oblivious? "Do you know why his face was messed up?" She asked cautiously.

Hermione shook her head. "I'm puzzled, frankly, but he looked like he was ready to murder when he came here."

"I punched him." Angylin told her friend softly.

Hermione's face showed confusion as she looked up, but not anger, as Angylin had almost expected. "Why?"

Simple question. But how should she answer? She didn't want to say for real…but…she couldn't just let Hermione go on thinking Malfoy was actually okay because he brought her meals. Any of her friends would have done that for her, had she asked…hell, Angylin would gladly bring her sixteen meals a day rather than let Malfoy do it. He might poison it or something equally bad. She finally opted for the truth—Hermione wasn't a girl that took a lot of bullshit, she knew. "He was about to tell everyone about what…uh…happened between you and him that one night. I saw you guys. I came around the corner and he was looking at me like he wanted to kill me, so I turned and ran before you saw me. And today he was about to tell Harry and Ron and Ginny what had happened…."

Hermione's mouth dropped open. It closed quickly, though. She nodded once. "I knew he would do something like this. I could only expect it, right? And I've already decided I'm not going to ever, ever break down to him again, no matter how nice he may seem. I can't believe he—he—why…." She looked down at the food, then back up at her. "Why would he keep bringing me meals?"

"To gain your trust," Angylin replied immediately. "Don't let him fool you, 'Mione."

"Isn't that what I just said wouldn't happen?" Hermione reminded her.

Angylin sighed. "I know, I just…I'm still worried."

Hermione nodded. "It's okay, though," She said, grinning, "Because if he pulls anything, you can beat him up for me."

Angylin shook her head, still serious. "If I get expelled from one more school—" And then she stopped dead, her face horrified. "I'm so sorry—I thought you were someone else for a second—and I…."

Hermione tilted her head to the side. "Ang…you can tell me anything, you know."

Angylin bit her lip and shook her head. "I'm sorry…I just…I'll see you later, okay?" And then she turned and fled, without waiting for an answer.

Hermione's "All right, bye," echoed in the now-empty room.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: I'd like to dedicate this chapter to my lovely reviewers who keep reviewing;**

_**firnoviel  
**_

_**dracoisthesexiestmanalive (I pretty much agree)**_

_**Steelo**_

_**Aria DeLoncray**_

**Your reviews make me smile :) So keep on reviewing and I hope you enjoy this chappie. **

**----!-!-!---- **

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**Never Lose Strength**

**Chapter 15**

"Granger," Malfoy nodded once to her when he entered the common room, and made to go up to his room.

But Hermione wasn't having any of it. She stood up quickly, abandoning her book on the couch, and glared at him. "Where do you think _you're_ going, _Malfoy_?" She spit with as much hatred and annoyance as possible. The fire was still there, coursing through her veins, as if everything she had lost in the past week or so was coming back full force, and she had to be extra nasty to make up for the lost time.

"Up to my room, actually," Malfoy replied, looking amused. Amused! Hermione couldn't believe him.

"You actually have the _nerve_ to go on up to your room as if everything's fine and dandy?" Hermione demanded, her fists clenched at her sides.

"Yes, actually." The boy replied, almost looking confused now.

"Oh, no, you don't." Hermione roughly picked up her wand. Her voice was almost at shouting point now. "I thought I could trust you! With everything you've done in the past—past—" She was so angry, she could barely speak.

"Hold on a minute," Malfoy told her, his voice rising too. "What've I done? I've done nothing wrong. And besides, you should know not to trust a _Slytherin_." He smirked.

Hermione's mouth dropped open, and she ignored his latter comment. "You wretched, bloody, insufferable git!" She screamed. "You've done nothing _wrong_? First you pretend to be my friend, and then you want to turn all my friends against me? What the hell is wrong with you?"

Malfoy raised an eyebrow, the picture of casual, and leaned back against a couch. "I'll have you know, Granger, that I don't give a fuck what you think about me or what I do. And you should know that all I see right now is a stubborn baby that really _should_ realize that you never have nor never will bring out any angel in me. Because it doesn't exist. All right? Glad we had this little chat." And with that, he swept out of the room.

Hermione slumped down on a loveseat. She couldn't believe it—she had actually thought that maybe, maybe he was actually okay. But then he had to come back and be the same stupid ferret that he had always been. She wanted to cry—but she just couldn't. She wasn't going to waste any more tears over Malfoy. From this point on, she was neither going to act like his friend nor acknowledge him as anything more than a Death Eater. She would have no sympathy for him. The whole good side of Malfoy that she had seen shine through before was dead to her, as of right then.

At least her book was still waiting for her. She softly kissed its spine, and continued to read.

--

Angylin wandered out onto the field in front of the school, although the harsh wind instantly froze her cheeks. She tried to flex her jaw, but it took too much effort, and she gave up.

What had she done? Everything she had worked for since the beginning of the year had almost gone down the drain. Except for the little Malfoy incident, she hadn't lost her temper once; she had acted like a totally normal witch-girl, who had transferred from another witch school. Right? She wasn't even going to tell Ron what was really up—just that she needed extra help on some spells.

Speak of the devil. Angylin looked up and saw the fiery redhead walking towards her, in the same awkward, lanky fashion. She smiled, and the ache in her cheeks didn't even stop her. This was one person that she could honestly say she looked forward to seeing.

"Hey, Angylin!" He called, and fell into step beside her a couple minutes later.

"Hey," Angylin replied, still smiling. "What brings you out here?"

Ron shrugged. "I just needed some time to think—about things, you know?"

"No, I can't say I do." Angylin laughed. "Well actually, I probably do. I've had my fair share of problems. So what do you say to some butterbeers?"

"That sounds _fantastic_," Ron agreed, and they headed down to Hogsmeade. It was evening, and neither had any more classes that day. "We might miss dinner, though."

"If we don't make it back, I'm sure we can find a restaurant in Hogsmeade," Angylin offered. "I mean, they don't check to see if we're back, do they?"

Ron shook his head. "They won't notice. Well, Harry and all will; but we can explain later." He thought of Hermione, and what she would think—what _would_ she think? He smiled mischievously at any chance to make her jealous.

Angylin was thinking the same thing, but instead of how glad she was that she had talked to Hermione earlier and she was all right with everything.

And then Ron started talking about Quidditch, and Angylin put in whatever little knowledge she could, and they passed the rest of the way to the Three Broomsticks making small talk, which Angylin couldn't remember specifically for the love of her.

--

Draco collapsed onto his bed, feeling like trash.

Why had he said all those things to Hermione? Why had he almost said what he had to Potter and his friends? If Angylin hadn't been there…great—so now he owed the new girl, too.

And then he felt his familiar anger rise, and he understood why he had done all those things; he was angry at Granger, angry at her for making him feel things he had never felt before. First guilt, and then sympathy, and then…maybe even…well….

He couldn't even bear to say it.

He headed back outside; the walls of his room were closing in on him. He regarded Granger coldly, and kept walking, through unfamiliar hallways, just walking and walking until he came to a set of stairs, which he took without thinking. And then he found himself up in the Astronomy tower, looking out over the Hogwarts grounds, and thinking….

"What are you thinking about?" A soft voice asked.

Draco turned, and felt his heart soar: but then it crashed back down into his chest when he realized it was Pansy Parkinson. He shook his head. "I really need to be alone right now, Pansy."

"But—" She looked so hurt, and yet Draco really needed to just….

"Just go, Pansy."

"But—"

"_Get. Out. Now._" His voice was deadly low, even to his own ears, and Pansy fled the room without missing a beat. He sighed heavily and turned back to the window.

Such deep thoughts raced through his mind that he was scaring himself. And yet, he kept coming back to the same subject. He was supposed to be a handsome youth enjoying his popularity with the ladies. And yet, he kept coming back to Granger. What appeal could she possibly hold for him? She was the only girl he had ever met who hadn't instantly thrown herself at his feet. Even that little redhead—the Weasel girl—had given him second looks. But not Granger. She treated him exactly how she wanted to, like her hormones didn't influence her at all. That confused and disturbed and angered and frustrated Draco.

The Astronomy tower wasn't helping. He lurched to his feet and ran back down the stairs, searching for a sanctuary, and extremely afraid that he wouldn't find one.

--

Hermione burst out laughing when Angylin came running through her common room door, her cheeks red and her hair messy and her eyes much too bright.

"I see someone had a good time?" Hermione couldn't even be angry that Angylin had missed dinner and not told her; this was much too exciting. Because even underneath it all, Hermione _was_ a girl, and she _did_ enjoy this sort of thing.

Angylin nodded eagerly, and plopped herself down on a sofa in the common room. "It was _excellent_! Ron is officially my boyfriend now!" She sounded like a little kid as she said it, so excited and blithe.

Hermione grinned. She loved how Ron could reduce the tough Angylin to a five-year-old. "That's wonderful. Shall we celebrate?" She gestured to two mugs of steaming liquid sitting on a counter in the kitchen.

"Oh? What's that?" Angylin got up quickly and scrambled over to the mugs.

Hermione laughed again, this time at how hyper her friend was. "Hot chocolate. A nice change from butterbeer, don't you think?"

"Yes!" Angylin agreed. She grabbed a mug and sloshed some liquid down her throat, but then immediately balked. "Hot, hot, hot!" She nearly screamed, her tongue lolling out of her mouth.

Hermione was overtaken by a fit of giggles, watching the girl prance around like a chicken with its head cut off. She was laughing so hard that she had to hold her stomach and bend her head till the laughter ceased—and then, she was aware that Angylin had stopped talking. She looked up, and frowned.

"Oh, please don't let me interrupt this party." Malfoy sneered as he walked through the common room towards the door.

Hermione fully ignored him and pretended he wasn't there. "Ang, could you bring me a mug here?"

"What, Mudblood too lazy to get up and get it for herself?" Malfoy asked, grabbing the mug as he passed by it. Angylin looked like she was ready to kill him. He smiled. "Come on, Granger, come get it."

Hermione smiled sweetly, still looking at Angylin. "Come on, let's go to my room. I've got something I want to show you…." She got to her feet and headed up the stairs to her room, followed hesitantly by Angylin, who looked like she really wanted to punch Malfoy's brains out.

Hermione didn't look back, and closed the door behind Angylin. She refused to let him get to her. He wasn't going to get a rise out of her. She grabbed her Muggle photo album—the one that she had compiled from over the summer—and held it up. She took a deep breath. She hadn't looked at it since…since…but now she felt strong, with Angylin here, and having stood up to Malfoy, and; maybe she was finally ready, and maybe she wasn't. But she wouldn't find out unless she did this.

Angylin's eyes grew wide when she realized what Hermione was holding. "Hermione…" She said warningly.

Hermione lifted her eyes to meet Angylin's. "I really have to do this, Ang. If you'd rather not be here…then…well…you can leave. And I'm serious." She hoped her sincerity showed in her eyes.

Angylin nodded shortly. "I'm not going to leave. You'd best get it over with, then." She draped herself across Hermione's bed, trying to make the mood as light as possible. While she had a nasty temper and was protecting by nature, she still didn't like to meddle in the messy emotional stuff, which was part of the reason she had gone to talk to Hermione before furthering her relationship with Ron. She didn't really know what to do when people got teary-eyed.

But she could make herself work properly if Hermione needed her. She waited patiently as Hermione cracked open the first page, and stared at it.

Angylin peered over her shoulder, and immediately felt safer. These pictures didn't move—this was what she was used to. She smiled warmly, feeling like now, now she could be a solid shoulder for Hermione to lean on. This was familiar, so she could handle it.

A tear dripped from Hermione's eye onto the page, falling almost directly into her mother's eye; or what Angylin guessed to be her mother. The lady did look a bit like her, except her hair was less frizzy and her face was more heart-shaped. In fact, the lady was pretty—not just pretty, but beautiful. Angylin smiled as she looked at Hermione and saw the resemblance, if only Hermione un-frizzed her hair and attempted to make herself look nice. Suddenly, she couldn't wait for the next dance, where she might be able to convince Hermione to put some thought into her appearance—or else get Ron's little sister to do it, since Angylin really wasn't very good with makeup.

Angylin snapped back to reality and looked at Hermione again: her eyes were full of tears, and she looked so sad in that moment that Angylin felt her own heart sinking. She threw an arm around the girl's back in an attempt to make her feel better, but it didn't seem to be helping.

--

"Harry, Professor Dumbledore would like to speak with you," Professor McGonagall told him as he headed out of Transfiguration. "It's quite important, and he's expecting you to come around this evening around seven. Go alone, please."

Harry nodded, and joined Ron as they walked towards the library to write up a Potions essay on the world's most magical and mysterious potions. "What do you supposed it's about?" Harry wondered aloud.

"Dunno," Ron shrugged once, and they silently entered the library; both lost in thought, both in entirely different subjects.

Ron felt his heart soar when he saw Angylin seated at one of the working tables. She looked so pretty, her hair up, bent over her paper, so deep in thought… he smiled mischievously and tiptoed up behind her, then clapped his hands on her shoulders and whispered her name quickly.

Angylin screamed.

Madame Pince looked over, fire in her eyes. "This is a _library_!" She hissed, ignoring the laughter that was breaking out all over. "You're expected to be quiet, or else you can find yourself the exit!"

Angylin's mouth hung open for a second, but then she burst out in silent laughter along with Ron, who pulled a chair up close next to her.

Feeling ditched and annoyed at their behavior, Harry found himself an empty seat at an empty table and roughly—more roughly than he had intended—pulled out parchment and quill. His parchment ripped in half, and he groaned.

"Need another roll?" A shrill voice asked.

Surprised, Harry looked around: until his eyes rested on Pansy Parkinson, who was seated at the next table over. His eyes narrowed. "No."

"Good." Pansy giggled. "Because I wasn't going to give you it."

Harry growled under his breath, slammed up his books, and stormed out of the library, much to the bewilderment of nobody and non-caring of Ron and Angylin. He set out a harsh sigh and headed up to the Heads' dorm, where Hermione was probably spending her free hour. He hadn't seen her much lately, and besides, he would rather hang out with her than in the Gryffindor common room.

The portrait halted him, and he yelled out Hermione's name, hoping she could hear.

A couple minutes later, there were tentative footsteps, and the door swung open. "Yes?" She asked, and then stopped when she saw it was him. "Oh, oh! Harry! Come on in." She stepped aside to let him in.

"Hello," He greeted, looking around the room. The last time he had been in here…he shuddered. It brought back terrible memories. At least Hermione was pretty much all right—except her eyes did look a little red. "Are you all right?"

"What?" Hermione blinked her eyes slowly, as if she had been lost in thought. "Oh, yes, I'm fine. Come, come, have a seat." She flitted about like a nervous hostess.

"Hermione, calm down. It's only me. Harry." He said his name slowly, hoping it would click with her.

She nodded, but didn't say anything.

"So how have you been?" Harry asked, putting new gusto in his voice.

Hermione nodded. "I've been all right. It's getting right boring, sitting up here all the time, but I've managed—besides, Madame Pomfrey says I'm to take it slow. And you?"

Harry ignored the nagging feeling that they were slowly but surely drifting apart; Hermione was acting so distant with him. "Can't complain."

There was silence. Harry awkwardly scratched his neck, aware that Hermione was watching him intently, waiting for him to say something—anything. What to say?

"Is this your new catch, Granger?" A new voice put in, strolling down the stairs that went from the common room to his room. "Potty, you've only got about a week, I'd say, before she puts you away, just like Weasel."

Hermione firmly looked the other way. "So I've decided to go to that Halloween dance," She told Harry. "I mean, what can it hurt? It won't get me in any emotional trouble, I'm sure."

"You're going to be in emotional trouble, Potty. A slut like Granger does that to idiots like yourself."

There was a sharp intake of breath, which blared like a loudspeaker in Harry's ears. And then Hermione whirled and retreated up to her room. Harry whirled on Malfoy. "What the hell is your problem? She's only just getting better, and you're making it harder on her by tormenting her every chance you get!"

"That's what I do best," Malfoy told him, a lazy smile on his face.

"You know what _I_ do best?" Harry demanded, holding up his fist and stepping towards Malfoy. "I think you should know, when my fist meets your face!"

"Is that a threat? I am _so_ scared." Malfoy assured him in a voice that suggested that he was not, in fact, scared at all.

"Save it, Malfoy." Harry told him disgustedly, and headed up to Hermione's room. He took a deep breath, and opened the door, ready to do some major comforting.

But what he saw shocked him.

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**A/N: All right, sorry for the cliffy, but it was just the perfect spot to end this chapter. **

**So thanks to all my reviewers but I'm setting myself a challenge: I'm not updating till I get at least...50 reviews? So R&R!**

**Thankss everyone. Hope you enjoyed :)**


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: Okay, so maybe 50 was too much to ask. I'm settling for 39; it's an improvement:) Thank youu to everyone who reviewed. You guys really brighten up my days! Haha okay so that sounded kind of cliche. But seriouslyy. Thanks, everyone!  
**

**So here it is--hope you enjoy! Reviews are love.  
**

* * *

**Never Lose Strength**

**Chapter 16**

Looking back on it, Harry wasn't sure that something like what had just happened was out of character for Hermione. In fact, he realized that he wasn't even really _that_ shocked as he stared at her room, and what she had done in the five minutes in which he was delayed by his exchange with Malfoy, and then the time it took to go up Hermione's stairs.

The curtains had been blowing wildly around the open window, and at first, nothing had sunk in. He had just stared dumbly at the scene before him, trying to take it all in. Some of the drawers were open, and all of Hermione's books and things had been swept off the desk onto the floor, as if someone had done it in a rage.

And then he realized that she was gone.

It was then that he ran back downstairs, and out of the Heads' dorm without even yelling at Malfoy. He wasn't really that worried, yet; she was probably just outside, maybe at the lake, maybe at the forest…the Forbidden Forest! He quickened his steps; Hermione was known to not think as clearly in her emotional moments; which had greatly increased in the past days, as a matter of fact. But then he had gotten outside, and she wasn't there; not down by the lake, and he saw no sure proof that Hermione had ever even been there. He looked up, and he could still make out her open window: it happened to face the front lawn.

It occurred to Harry that he should check with Hagrid. "HAGRID!" He yelled, running towards the hut.

The door opened, and the burly man stuck his head out. "Yes, 'Arry?"

"Have you seen Hermione?"

"No, can't say that I 'ave. 'S somethin' wrong?" Hagrid wanted to know, inviting Harry inside.

Harry shook his head. "No, no. I'll see you later."

Hagrid opened his mouth to say something else, but Harry had already turned around and was tearing back up the lawn towards the doors. He skidded into the Gryffindor common room, and thanked his lucky stars that Ron was back from the library, and sitting there. "RON!" He nearly yelled.

"Oy, I'm right here! No need to shout!" Ron protested, holding up his hands. His cheeks were flushed, and there was a lazy smile glued to his face. Harry rolled his eyes.

"Hermione's gone," He said simply.

Ron cocked an eyebrow. "What?"

"That's just it—Hermione's gone," Harry repeated. "She had a row with Malfoy and I figure she's jumped out her window because when I went up to make amends for him with her, she was gone, and her window was open."

Ron tilted his head to the side. "You've been making amends with Hermione _for_ Malfoy? What are you, best buds now?"

"_No_, Ron!" Harry was trying (and failing) to keep his temper. "I just went to make her feel better, after yelling at Malfoy for being a git! Now are you going to help me or argue about what I was or was not doing while you shagged Angylin?"

Ron turned bright pink. "I didn't shag her!" He shot back.

"I don't care what you did with her," Harry was grinding his teeth so hard that his jaw felt like it was cracking. "Either you help me, or you don't."

Ron shrugged. "Hogsmeade?" He offered.

Harry slapped himself on the head. "Hogsmeade!" He repeated, angry with himself for not thinking of that. He whirled and left, leaving Ron alone in the common room.

He reached Hogsmeade in record time, especially on foot, panting so hard he felt like his lungs were going to collapse. But he kept going, looking in every store and every alley way, searching until it got dark. He finally gave up as the last ray of light fell below the horizon, and suddenly everything looked so black and eerie.

"_Dammit_," He muttered to himself, wondering why he was such an idiot for staying there _until_ it got dark.

Harry started the long walk back, the adrenaline from earlier worn off. It took him four times the amount of time it had taken him to arrive at Hogsmeade, and every little noise or movement made him twitch his head and grip his wand. By the time he reached Hogwarts, his palms and forehead were sweaty and clammy.

"Potter!" A voice whisper-yelled as soon as he stepped through the castle entrance.

He looked around and found – Malfoy?

"What do you want?" He spat, still sore at him. He had made Hermione run off, after all.

"Where's Granger?" Malfoy made it sound like he didn't care, but Harry could tell it irked him that the girl was gone. He felt a slight smile grow on him as he realized this.

"I've no idea." Harry's voice was still as dry as ever, letting Malfoy know for sure that it was all his fault that she was gone. "Why d'you care, anyways? Are you _friends_?"

Malfoy scowled. "No."

Harry shook his head disgustedly as he swept past Malfoy and headed into the Great Hall, where the last of dinner was probably—hopefully—going on. "With enemies like you, who needs friends?" He muttered, and didn't look back to see Malfoy's expression.

--

Draco felt like an idiot as he made his way towards the Slytherin common room. What the hell was wrong with him? Why the hell had he asked Potter where Granger was? Why did he _care_? He growled unconsciously as he walked, and plowed right into Pansy Parkinson.

"Draco!" She cooed. "How nice of you to drop by!"

Draco realized he was already in the Slytherin wing, about five feet from the entrance to their common room. "Hey, Pansy," He returned.

Pansy's voice and smile were too happy and so fake. She knew something was up—everyone could tell, even a bubblehead like Pansy. And yet, he knew that she was too scared to ask, because she was too afraid he would get mad.

Draco shook his head violently to clear his thoughts, then put his signature smirk on his face—it was finally back—and followed Pansy into the Slytherin common room.

Thankfully, Pansy didn't bring up the All Hallow's Ball even once.

--

Harry slid past the stone gargoyle and quickly backtracked. He was already fifteen minutes late for his appointment with Dumbledore.

"Gobstopper," He muttered, and raced up the spiral staircase, careful to knock on Dumbledore's door instead of barging right through.

"Ah, Harry," The door opened, and there stood Dumbledore, in all his peacefulness. "I'm glad you've made it."

"Sorry about the delay, Headmaster—Hermione's been…eh…misplaced."

"Misplaced?" There was a twinkle in Dumbledore's eye as he mused over Harry's interesting choice of words.

"Well, I believe it was her choice to misplace herself…." Harry began, already flustered. He wasn't making much sense. "She's gone."

Dumbledore's eyebrow rose, but he didn't look surprised.

"So what was it you needed?" Harry asked, following Dumbledore into the office.

Dumbledore smiled sheepishly. "It seems that I've forgotten. Funny, no? I'm sorry to interrupt you in any way that I have, and I will call you back if I recall."

Harry's mouth dropped open. "Are you…is this…a joke?" He asked, wondering if it was physically possible for the headmaster to forget anything.

"Afraid not, Harry. You're free to go. Candy?" He held out a bowl.

Harry shook his head and turned, still confused, towards the door.

"Oh, wait! While you're here, there's something else I wanted to discuss with you."

Harry nodded once and turned around. Okay. He felt better, now; there was no way Dumbledore had just called a special meeting with him and forgotten what he had to say. Even if this wasn't what the man had meant to say, it made Harry feel better.

"You're acquainted with our new student, Miss Becker, I presume?" Harry nodded. "I don't know if you've guessed or not, but she is not like other students. She has not just transferred because she'd like to go to boarding school for her last year, or any such reason. Her case is not a particularly easy one." He tilted his head to look at Harry over his half-moon glasses. "You are not to repeat any of what I shall say to _anyone_, do you understand?" Harry nodded quickly, and he kept talking. "Her parents are both magical, but for some reason they wanted their daughter to grow up in a Muggle community. Her parents did magic here and there during her childhood, so she was not completely oblivious to it ever—however, it was never explained to her, and she passed it off as normal. She attended several Muggle schools, however she was forced to leave many of them under certain circumstances. When she ran out of Muggle schools, her parents were forced to think of other options: either that, or send her to a juvenile detention facility. We are trying our best here to keep her here and safe and—hopefully—less violent. Her latest adventure with Mr. Malfoy certainly does not strengthen my trust in her, but I still do believe in her."

There was silence. "Why are you telling me this?" Harry finally asked.

Dumbledore cracked a smile. "I thought you would never ask! My dear boy, I must request of you a favor. Because Miss Becker is so prone to giving in to her current emotions, I would highly appreciate if you could try and keep her in check when you're around. If she's getting riled up, calm her down, or take her away, or distract her. Do you understand?"

Harry looked down, and then back up at the headmaster. "Yes, sir."

"Splendid! Now…oh!" His expression grew dismal. "I'm afraid I have some news that may isn't quite as wonderful."

Harry failed to see how being Angylin's babysitter was wonderful, but he didn't comment.

"The All Hallow's Ball—well—let me start from the beginning. Lord Voldemort isn't to be stopped, ever; he's made quite sure of that. Those pesky Horcruxes are nowhere to be found, and most of his followers are back with him because they are so sure of it. That doesn't give us much option or room to muse—it has come to my attention that they plan on attacking us, then. With such large numbers, and between them such an intense magical ability, they don't fear us quite as much."

In the pause, Harry spoke up. "Professor…what's this got to do with me? Well, I know what it's got to do with me, but—"

"Have you a date to the Ball?"

Harry's cheeks reddened. "Pardon?"

"Have you a date? To the All Hallow's Ball?" Professor Dumbledore repeated, his eyes twinkling over his glasses.

"Erm…not quite yet, no." He scratched the back of his neck, embarrassed to be having this discussion with his headmaster.

Dumbledore smiled gently. "What would you say to taking on sentry duty?" He asked. "I'm aware of your craving for danger, and I do believe this is the perfect opportunity." He winked. "All in good fun, Harry. In all seriousness, however, what would you say to that?"

Harry closed his eyes. What was he supposed to say? _Yes, Professor, I would love to give up my All Hallow's Ball to stand guard, in case of something that may never come. Would I like to dance? To dance with danger? Not quite the dance I was expecting, Professor._

"Of course, you wouldn't be alone," The old wizard continued, beginning to pace. "I would assign others—perhaps not Mr. Weasley, but others, such as…Mr. Malfoy?"

Harry made a face. "It has to be _him_?"

"I'm aware that you're not on friendly relations with Mr. Malfoy, however, this needs to be done. I'd not like to pressure you, Harry, but…."

Sighing one more time, Harry set his jaw and narrowed his eyes.

"And you'd be able to step in and out of the Great Hall, if you'd wish. I could…ah! Harry, worry not. I shall come get you, in case of trouble. Is that fair? No, no, no. Would you like me to fetch you, or would you rather go up to the dormitories with the rest of the students?"

"I'd not be excluded either way," Harry replied sulkily. "They'll come find me, if you don't."

Dumbledore exhaled. "The exact reason I'm asking you to do this, Harry. You're a good dueler—you, your father, Mr. Malfoy, and Godric Gryffindor himself make quite a good challenge. And I can see that somewhere there you enjoy it a little, too."

"Yes," Harry agreed. "I'd enjoy a nice little harmless duel. But this?" He sighed. "My answer's yes. There's really no way to avoid it, in my case."

The headmaster smiled apologetically. "Canary Cream?" He held out a different bowl.

This time, Harry accepted.

--

Draco paced back and forth, occasionally pounding his head on something, or driving his fist into the wall. This was it—this was pure torture. This was worse than the Cruciatus Curse, worse than Azkaban, worse than it all.

And it had only been two days.

Two whole days, and the girl had managed to turn him mental; he was dissolving inside his own head. Just two days—and he was worried sick, not worried at all, disdainful, dejected, even more sarcastic than usual. He had no idea how to cover it up, how to deal with it, who to talk to.

Nobody would understand him.

Nobody would believe him.

Classes became like a sorry routine, in those two short, and yet long, days. He wandered through, lost, not really registering anything, spitting out comebacks and insults that had been bottled up and named. He couldn't think of anything original, and even if he did, he couldn't remember them for future use. His whole clockwork existence was screwing up and pulling him backwards and holding him upside down by his ankle.

The dormitory door opened, and Draco yelled the first thing that came to his mind—"Levicorpus!" He had been thinking about holding himself up by the ankle, after all.

Blaise Zabini hung from mid-air, his expression disgusted. "Liberacorpus," He muttered, pointing his wand at his feet. He gracefully landed on his bum. "For Merlin's sake, Malfoy, what was _that_ for?"

Draco shrugged. "Leave me alone."

Blaise raised an eyebrow. "This is as much my dormitory as yours. I'll stay as long as I like, thanks."

Draco abruptly left the room, again in search of a sanctuary; but somehow his feet led him up a staircase to the entrance of the Great Hall, and then turned again, towards the front doors. He halted suddenly, and stared up, briefly overwhelmed by the massiveness of the doors. They loomed over him, not quite friendly, not quite unfriendly.

Taking a deep breath, Draco pushed open the door and stumbled out into the night.

--

Harry reached the Gryffindor common room just in time to witness the beginnings of his first duty as Angylin's overseer.

"You're a _slut_!" Lavender cried as Harry walked over.

Angylin raised an eyebrow. "Is that the best you can do?" She asked lazily.

"I'm sure _Hermione_ could do better, if she were here to tell you to back off of Ron!"

"FYI, darling, I've already talked to Hermione, and she doesn't seem to have a problem with it. Why don't you let her fight her own battles?"

"Yes, because you happen to be _so_ good at fighting."

"Would you like a demonstration?" Angylin demanded, her voice rising. She pushed the up the sleeves of her robe.

Harry quickly stepped in front of Angylin. "Um…come with me. I have to, um, show you something."

Confused, the angry look dropped off of Angylin's face. She obediently followed him outside. They disappeared out the portrait hole.

Ron stared down at them, watching them leave together, his expression unreadable as he disappeared back into the boys' dormitory.

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**A/N: If you're reading this, you better be clicking that little purple button in the bottom corner--is it purple? Either way, I don't see you clicking that button. Are you clicking? Do it. Right now. Okay. Good. I promise, if you click it, you'll get sugar and spice and everything nice:)**

**All rightt fine so I don't hold a candle to St. Nick, but for my sake. That little button is calling your name!  
**


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: So I was going through my stories on fanfiction and fictionpress and such, and I stumbled upon this little gem. I happened to have forgotten about it completely--I haven't updated in a year and some months (let's call it a sabbatical, shall we?). However, I fully plan on finishing it, and now that I've gotten back into it, I most definitely will. I'm so sorry for not updating earlier, you wonderful reviewers, but maybe you'll come back to this story and reread it and like it as much as you did before :) Thanks, enjoy!**

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**Never Lose Strength**

**Chapter 17**

Draco Malfoy made his way across the school grounds, a strange new sense of power surging through him. He was putting himself in danger, probably, yes, but at least it was for a good cause—most of the danger he had experienced in his life was pointless and brought on for no good reason.  
Even so, the Forbidden Forest was no small feat, especially in the dead of night like this was. Dinner was over—he had left about the same time Potter had, running out of there at ten after seven like a madman.

Potter. Bah. He and his weasel sidekick had been in the Forest plenty of times, and they had come out unscathed for the most part—besides the obvious detriments that they had most probably been born with. Even so, if he emerged as a transformed being, somehow like Potter or Weasley in any way, he would be forced to kill himself.

But not before he brought her back to safety.

The trees were imminent in the very near distance, so uninviting that he had half a mind to turn around and run to safety. But that would be another prat move, and he had made too many of those already.

Besides, if Potty and the Weasel could do it, bloody well so could he.

His first step into the underbrush that began the forest sent chills up his body. He had only ever been in the Forbidden Forest for detention—even then, he had never been completely alone. Always, there was someone to call out to, to yell to; at least, someone who knew he was there. If something vicious and man-eating caught him, nobody would ever know and he would be gone, vanished, just like that.

But then again, she could be in that very situation as he was thinking those thoughts.

He quickened his pace and found himself getting enclosed, swallowed up by the forest. He turned, and the way coming looked the same as the way going. _Stupid Draco_! He reprimanded himself. He should have brought something to mark his path. Even if he did find her, who was to say they would find their way out?  
But now he was too far to go back. He was determined. He was on a warpath, and this stupid forest wouldn't stop him.

He pushed and fought his way through, stepping on roots that were pushing out of the ground when he could to avoid the ground and any disgusting insects. The eerie silence was almost worse than if he could hear twigs snapping: like everything was stopped and holding its breath and waiting.

As he got deeper and deeper into the forest, he found that his bravery was building. He didn't even know he possessed courage, although coming to the Forest in the first place must have taken some of that. Apparently, he was more than he gave himself credit for: not that he didn't give himself enough credit, on a daily basis.

Honestly, though, he was getting sick of being left to his thoughts. They could only get him so far before he started getting bored and regarding himself as somewhat delusional. He wished that anyone were here—Blaise, even Pansy, even that stupid new Gryffindor who had punched him and screwed things up between Hermione and him even more would do.

The weak light coming from his wand cast the world in shadows, blocked from starlight and moonlight by the thick trees above. He hoped to Merlin he was going in a straight line, because he really hadn't imagined his death as a solitary one, in the Forbidden Forest, at that. Perhaps the 'solitary' part wasn't so hard to imagine.

--

Harry and Angylin walked out into the hallway, the former walking quickly and trying to think up something to say. He didn't really have anything to show the girl, and he hoped that wouldn't rile her up. She was quickly gaining a reputation for her temper.

"Er…" He began, at the same time as she said, "So what's up?"

He looked surprised.

"I know that you don't have something to show me." She told him. "So what's up?"

Immensely surprised by this easy way out, he grinned. "I'm supposed to be saving you from your inner demons." He confided, and then bit his tongue. Blimey, what if she got mad at that?

Again to his astonishment, she smiled. "Awesome! I guess Dumbledore put you up to this?"

He still wasn't used to her completely American way of talking. He didn't know there were any magical schools in America—she was obviously from there, either way. "Er…"

She laughed. "It's okay. That's good. I need someone to help me control myself. Otherwise I'll get myself into more trouble than I can afford." A dark look passed over her face, but then it was gone. "Let's go back, shall we? Before they think we're having a secret love affair." She winked.

He could rather get used to this girl. She was no Hermione, but she was quirky in her own way. "All right." He grinned back.

They entered the common room, both smiling. Lavender and Parvati were sitting at the couches, engrossed in their conversation, while a few other Gryffindors from other years were scattered about.

Harry said goodnight to Angylin, who headed up to the girls' dorm, obviously not in the mood to talk to Lavender and Parvati, and headed up to his own. Ron was already there, apparently…asleep?

"Ron?" Harry said as he walked up to his friend's bed. The redhead's eyes were closed. "You can't possibly be asleep, it's not even nine!"

Ron's eyes stayed stubbornly shut.

Harry crossed his arms across his chest. "You are not asleep."

Ron growled and turned so that he was facing the other way, without opening his eyes.

"You wanker, what's wrong?" Harry demanded, refusing to move to the other side of the bed to talk to his sometimes extremely childish friend.

"Go away." Ron's muffled voice floated to his ears.

"Stop being a baby and tell me what's happened to you." Harry commanded.

"No, maybe you should tell me what's happened to _you_!" Ron returned angrily, still facing the other direction.

Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Maybe you can enlighten me on the problem, Ron, because I have no bloody idea what you're talking about."

"Prat."

"Duffer."

"Twit."

"Git."

There was silence, and then they both laughed, clearly amused by how their insults rhymed.

The moment passed, however, and Ron remained stonily turned the other way.

"If you don't tell me what's wrong, I can't help it." Harry reminded him. "In case you expected me to read your mind."

"You're Harry bloody Potter, you can do anything." Ron bit back. "Like steal your best friend's girl."

Realization dawned on Harry. "You _twat_! You think I fancy Angylin?"

"'Oh, Angylin, I have something to show you!'" Ron said in a high-pitched, squealing voice.

Harry growled. "I'm supposed to be keeping her temper in check, for Dumbledore."

"Oh, I'm sure." Ron replied.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Fine, you can be a drama queen, but just wait till Angylin finds out. When she's through with you and your utter thick-headedness, you won't be able to have children, ever." Unwilling to deal with Ron anymore, and still preoccupied with his complete worry about Hermione and her whereabouts, he decided to leave the dormitory and search for solace elsewhere.

--

It was already pitch black outside, but that didn't really matter to Hermione. As she sat on the cold, unforgiving pavement, all she could do was stare straight ahead like a dumb doll. She could only observe, like this was someone else's life, someone else's nightmare, and it would be over soon.

But somehow she knew that she had to do this. Something was pulling her to this place. She should get back soon—she hated making her friends worry, but she needed to get away from Malfoy and all the extra stress he was bringing onto her. And along with her friends came Malfoy; it was a package deal. The only way seemed to be to get away from them for a while. Her rage towards him was gone, but the overwhelming emotions had left her completely drained, completely exhausted.

She would return in the morning, maybe. Or even tonight, if she could gather the strength. Or maybe a car would hit her, and the entire ordeal would end, once and for all.

_Stop thinking morbid thoughts_.

It was hard, though, sitting there, staring at the scene before her.

It just looked like a fire had run through the place, she mused, tilting her head to the side and trying to see it from a Muggle's perspective. In ruins, charred, smoking…

And what did _she_ look like to them? A forlorn little girl, curled up in the middle of the road, unsure of which direction to go in. Perhaps they would feel sorry for her, before moving on with their daily lives. The most interruption she would make would be to anyone who might pass by in a motor vehicle, and be extra careful not to hit her. They might wonder briefly why she could possibly be there, staring straight ahead, almost looking thunderstruck, but then their mind would move on to other things, their own lives, their own dreams and nightmares.

What would she give to be one of those people?

Maybe her soul was like the house she was staring at. It represented her childhood memories, thick as boards but burned just as easily. They were crushed away and blackened until they were barely recognizable, just like her soul, just like her home. This was what the Dark Lord did. Killing would just be quick, and then bliss. But this was_dying_—the process of slowly and surely, painfully, falling into that dreadful, wonderful abyss.

She had to leave before the sun rose. She could handle it at night, but the daytime would burn the image into her senses and that might be crossing a deadly threshold.

--

"Two weeks until the All Hallow's Ball!" Lavender shrieked, running down the girls' dormitory steps.

Angylin looked up from her seat on the couch by the fireplace, tilting her head to the side as she thought about this. Ron hadn't asked her yet: and the way things were going, she didn't really expect him to. He had been avoiding her for the past day—actually, ever since the night before. She didn't know what was up with him, but she intended to find out…as soon as she got some free time from her ridiculously heavy workload.

Lavender and Parvati were now fast approaching, sitting on a couch as far away from her as possible and discussing the ball. She caught snippets of their conversation; they were talking about the dresses they had yet to buy, and Hogsmeade, which was where they were planning on buying them. Angylin herself hadn't bought a dress yet, but she didn't even know if she was going to go. She wished Hermione were there. It was funny how fast she had grown attached to the girl: it felt like they had been friends more than a few days, and yet not. She hadn't seen the brunette since the day before, actually. Specifically, when Hermione had insisted on opening that picture album, which Angylin figured wasn't a wise move. After doing her best to comfort her friend, Angylin had left. She never really was comfortable in situations like that.

In any case, she hadn't seen Hermione at breakfast, either. A terrible thought struck her—what if she was having another mental breakdown? She got up so fast she could swear it was her reflexes, and bolted out of the common room. Lavender and Parvati briefly looked up, but then went back to their conversation.

It occurred to Angylin that she might want to consult Harry or Ron. Well, maybe not Ron. But at least Harry; he would know for sure where Hermione was. If he didn't, then nobody knew. But why was she getting so worked up? The girl was probably in bed again, broken again by something that stupid silver-haired boy had said.

Doubt clouded her mind, though. Hermione had said, quite clearly, that she wouldn't let the boy fool her again. Knowing Hermione (even as little as she did), she wouldn't expect the girl to go back on her promise—so soon, at least.

She reached the Heads' quarters, but her face fell when she saw that a gallivanting knight had taken over the portrait. "Erm, could you get the lady, please?"

The knight looked confused. "I don't think that's the password, lass."

She still found it awkward to talk to a painting. "Yeah, yeah, I know. But can you go get the Renaissance lady? I need to, erm, speak with her."

The knight narrowed his eyes at her, but then shrugged and galloped, on his horse, out of the portrait. She heard him calling for Madame somebody until his voice disappeared along the left wall.

Eventually, the lady appeared, walking brightly into the portrait. She peered down at Angylin. "Oh, hello! I remember you. What's the password, please?"

Angylin quickly said it, and the lady happily swung forward to allow Angylin entrance.

She raced through the common room, her heart pumping for some reason. It was empty. She headed up the staircase and flung open the door that had Hermione's name on it in gold lettering—the other boy's name was on his door in silver. Her room was empty, but a few things looked flung around. It didn't look like a struggle, but rather a moment of rage. It was hard to picture Hermione in a moment of rage, though.

The window was open. That was strange. Hermione had joked once about the air being so thin, way at the top of the castle, where the Heads' quarters were located, that opening the window would cause loss of breath and she might end up dying in her sleep. It was a joke, of course, but Angylin could still tell that Hermione didn't like opening the window, for some reason or another. It might be because she was afraid of heights (the brunette _had_ disclosed her fear of flying), but in any case, it was clear that she wouldn't open the window within her regular routine.

With a shrug, Angylin exited the room. There were any number of innocent explanations for the state of Hermione's room, and as soon as she could find Harry, she could figure it out. But while she was here...she might as well check the Malfoy boy's room as well.

She peeked in first, to make sure he wasn't there. She, of course, wasn't his favorite person; when not caught unawares, he could probably beat her hands-down in a fight, with no witnesses or backup. She had no doubt that he would try his hardest to cause her pain, with any number of spells that she had no idea even existed…she shuddered, and checked three times with her eyes to make sure he wasn't on the premises.

When fully sure, she stepped inside, and looked around. It was a carbon copy of Hermione's room, just with a different color scheme—the colors of his House, if she understood correctly. The crest above his bed, which was like Hermione's except was green and silver and depicted a snake, was his House crest, she was pretty sure.

Unlike Hermione's room, there were no signs of distress or abnormality here. There was the fact that he was gone, but that really was not an earth-shattering revelation. He could be anywhere: with his goons, in his House common room, in the Great Hall, in the library. He might even be in classes; she had a free period right now, but that didn't mean he did, too.

She left their quarters as quickly as possible, fully bent on finding Harry. She was pretty sure he didn't have a class this period as well; she had seen him around, along with most of the other Gryffindors. She raced back to the Gryffindor Common Room as fast as her legs could take her, stopping once she was outside the portrait to breathe deeply.

Once again composed, she entered the room and looked around. Lavender, Parvati, some third years, some fifth years, Neville, Ron, and—Harry! She ran over to him, completely ignoring Ron. She could give back whatever he planned on giving her. "Harry, where's Hermione?"

Harry just stared at her, then slowly looked away. "Why, do you need her?" He asked.

She raised an eyebrow. "Um, yes?"

He coughed. "Er, she's unavailable right now."

Okay, she was starting to get annoyed. "Unavailable? What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that she's not able to be of service to you right now."

"I _know_ what unavailable means!" She declared, crossing her arms over her chest. She was a little past irked now. "Just tell me where she is."

If he had told her where she was, she would have left it at that and moved on, pacified. Unfortunately, his answer was, "I don't know."

"Yes, you do." Angylin disagreed. "You just don't want to tell me."

"No, I really _don't know_." Harry replied, sounding angry himself. He got up quickly, leaving his Charms homework on the table, and ran up to the boys' dormitory, slamming the door shut behind him.

"What's_ his_ problem?" Angylin asked acidly, jabbing a thumb in the direction of the boys' dormitory.

Neville just blinked and turned back to his parchment, and Angylin really hadn't been asking Ron. She turned around and walked away just as the redhead had begun opening his mouth, not in the mood for any crap from him right now.

--

She was starting to get hungry. Had she really sat there all night? It seemed impossible that the sun was already rising. She was going to miss another day of classes, at this rate.

She had left her harsh seat on the pavement, of course. She was now sitting on a swing, pushing off the ground with her feet idly as her head lolled to the side. She was having trouble focusing: honestly speaking, if she tried to Apparate now, she might splinch herself because she probably wouldn't be able to concentrate.

Hermione had slept. It had been a rough, nightmare-driven, shallow sleep, the kind that mothers were created for: but her mother no longer existed, except in memory, and memories weren't enough to chase the demons from the corners of her mind. Sweat was soaking her body, but she couldn't bring herself to move or even care. She was reliving her childhood on this swing, and it would hurt too much to go back to reality.

It was good that it was too early for anyone except her and her unraveling mind. Any parents that might pass by with small children would usher them quickly away from her—the swings would be off limits, because she was sitting on one, and she was exhibit one of strangers that should never be talked to, never be trusted. Her hair was a mess and her eyes were bloodshot and she was staring into space and she couldn't keep her head straight. Her thoughts were spinning wildly out of control and were someone to interrupt her, she might fall apart completely.

When had she become like this? She used to be strong, the backbone of the Golden Trio, the brains and the spine and the shoulder to cry on when things didn't go right in her friends' lives. She wasn't supposed to be _still_ hurting, _still_ moping, _still_ dysfunctional. She was supposed to get over it quickly so she could be there for everyone else, like always.

This last thought was what propelled her to attempt to stand. Even if she got splinched in the process, she had to try and get back to school. She was _supposed_ to be there for her friends, and what was she doing? She had been a terrible friend since the whole nightmare had started. Sure, she could afford some mourning time, but this was getting borderline ridiculous. Her friends counted on her, and she was letting them down.

Now completely angry at herself for being so selfish, she unsteadily rose to her feet, using one of the chains holding up the swing as leverage. After hours of disuse, her legs felt like jelly—but it was nothing a few minutes wouldn't mend. When she could walk without holding onto anything, she positioned herself in the center of the playground and pictured just outside the Hogwarts' grounds.

Her stomach growled loudly as she conjured the image up in her brain. _Once chance. You better get this right_. If her stomach kept going the way it was going, she was going to end up at a café instead of school. Why was it so incredibly hard to focus? Everything was so distracting. Sunlight was starting to hit her on the head.

Suddenly beyond tired, exhausted, and starving, she crumpled to a heap on the ground. She couldn't go back to school, who was she kidding? Trying to Apparate back would be as stupid as cutting herself open and throwing herself into a shark-infested water tank.

She lay on the ground, staring up at the sky, trying to draw strength from the brilliant sunrise. She felt around in her pockets as she did so, and her hand hit her wand, tucked into her robes.

At least she had been smart enough to bring that.

Maybe she could take the Knight Bus to Kings Cross station.

_Silly Hermione,_ she yelled at herself a moment later in her mind. _The Hogwarts Express only comes at fixed times_.

Well, maybe she could try Apparating again in a few minutes. She was quite comfortable, as it were, and she couldn't be bothered to move. Maybe if she was very, very still, she could close her eyes and the world would go back to what it was supposed to be, full of splendor and happiness and vanquished of all things bad and evil.


	18. Chapter 18

**Never Lose Strength**

**Chapter 18**

Harry was leaning on a windowsill, looking out over the Forbidden Forest as the sun rose and painted the sky.

Everything was bathed in gold right now; almost surreal in its wonder and projecting the idea that nothing could go wrong in this magical world.

If only, he thought, sighing.

He was in Hermione's room again, having stayed up the whole night searching and having not found a single clue that might suggest where she was. He hadn't been to Dumbledore yet, figuring that the last thing Hermione wanted was a full-scale search after her. She would come back in her own time, but she could be rather emotional sometimes, and he didn't want her to do anything rash that might have dire consequences.

His eyes strayed back to the trees, which looked the least menacing as they ever would. It was like the Forest was calling to him, but it was always like that. He snorted. Danger just loved him.

The possibility of Hermione being on school grounds was ruled out. He had already checked the Marauder's Map, first thing—there was no trace of her, anywhere. He was certain that in her wrecked state she wouldn't think to perform any magic that might render her untraceable; but then again, she was a rather quick-witted person.

Still, he wasn't even sure if that sort of magic existed. Highly skilled, highly devious wizards created the Marauder's Map, after all. They had probably taken the time to ensure that nobody could be hidden from it. Although, they hadn't counted on anybody knowing about it; since Hermione knew about it, she might try to conceal herself.

Even so, the likelihood of her being on school grounds was extremely low. Why would she be? It made no sense to Harry at all. She would have gone somewhere where she could find comfort, or understanding, or anything helpful. The Forbidden Forest would not be a star destination for a distraught Hermione Granger.

But then there was always Hogsmeade—he had already checked, but who was to say that she wasn't there now?

He sighed heavily. It was times like these that he wished they were Muggles who knew nothing of magic. With magic, the possibilities were endless—she could be anywhere, really. At least if they were Muggle, relying on trains and cars and such, the choices would be much more limited and the area much more searchable.

He stayed until the sun was halfway risen, at which time he left for breakfast, and then morning classes. In-between, during his free period, that silly Angylin girl had inquired about Hermione. Still sick with worry, he had snapped at her and left for his dormitory, only coming out to go to his next class. As he headed to lunch, his thoughts were once again taken over by Hermione—he quickly analyzed all the places she could be, again, but had no brilliant strokes of luck. He considered going to the library later, to see if there was any clue or some such thing that might tip him off to where the brunette could be. Then again, his efforts were probably futile; if Hermione didn't want to be found, she wouldn't be found.

Ron was already sitting at the Gryffindor table.

Harry was about to say good morning, but then decided against it, remembering the redhead's childish behavior the night before. He took a seat a little ways down the table, near Seamus and Dean.

"What's up with you and Ron?" Seamus asked, nodding his head in Ron's direction. As soon as Harry had sat down, Ron had looked the other way, and hadn't turned since.

Harry shrugged. "I'm not going to sit around and wait for him to grow up. I reckon if he wants to be a wanker, he can go ahead and do it alone."

Seamus and Dean looked at each other, shrugged, and then they dropped the subject and moved on to other topics, like Quidditch.

Angylin came sometime in-between and sat down next to Harry, across from Dean. "Hi."

Harry glanced at her, and then looked away. "Hey."

She sighed heavily. "Listen, I'm sorry about…um…prying…about Hermione. I was just worried. I wanted to make sure…well…you know."

Harry nodded, almost robotically. "It's fine. I was a little worked up already, too. About Hermione, and that idiot over there." He nodded quickly in Ron's direction.

Angylin's face soured. "Yeah."

Seamus looked surprised. "Haven't you and him been inseparable?"

"_Had_ been inseparable." Angylin corrected. "He's been avoiding me." She shrugged. "Whatever his reasons, I'm sure they're pathetic, but I'm really not that concerned. He knows I can beat him down if I really wanted to."

The boys laughed at that, knowing this was the truth.

"Anyways." Angylin continued, looking at Harry. "What can I do to help you look for Hermione?" At his confused look, she added, "I'm not stupid, contrary to popular belief. I know she's gone. I can put two and two together. I know that I haven't known her long, and I'm not really in your inner circle, but if there's anything I can do, I really want to help. She's been a great friend, even for the little time I've known her, and what's happened to her is just…terrible."

"Yeah." A new voice agreed, as Ginny sat down on Harry's other side. "Nobody should have to go through that."

Harry looked between the two girls, confused. "Sorry, what?"

Ginny's mouth fell open, and she clapped a hand over it. Then she shot a glare at Angylin. "Nothing."

"Don't give me that." Harry told her sharply, looking between the two of them. "You both know what happened to her."

They both nodded, Angylin looked slightly guilty. Ginny looked down at the floor to avoid Harry's gaze.

Ginny put her hand gently on Harry's shoulder, then, as he didn't look angry, just deeply sad. She kissed his cheek, and said quietly near his ear, "We just happened to be around at her vulnerable moments. It doesn't mean anything. She would rather have nobody know. If she had her choice, you know that you would have been the first."

Harry nodded, but still looked slightly depressed.

The subject was quickly dropped, as Seamus and Dean sensed the uncomfortable thoughts and started up a discussion on something or another.

Lunch ended soon, and Harry found Ginny pulling him into a dark alcove off of a first-floor hallway. She looked up at him, taking both his hands in hers. "Listen, Harry…. She would have wanted you to know, more than she wanted Angylin to know. It just so happened that it came out in Angylin's presence, but you know very well that that means nothing, right?" She waited for his confirmation nod, however unconvincing. She sighed. "It was her parents, Harry. Voldemort. He got them."

His face fell almost immediately, and his hand left hers to rub at his temple. "I knew it." He said softly. "I think I knew it, but I wouldn't let myself come to terms with it. How could I be so thick? _She's_ the one tearing apart inside, and I'm selfish enough to not come to terms with it."

"It's okay, Harry." Ginny said soothingly. "If she had wanted you to know right away, she would have told you. Maybe it's better this way…she would have felt intimidated, had you known. You could take care of her in the way that she needed to be taken care of since you were left in the dark. If you had known, you would have absolutely babied her, right?"

Harry nodded. "Of course, but I think she needs that once in a while. She denies herself that much. She hates it when people look after her, but it's for her own good. Everyone enjoys a good babying once in a while, right? Even if she won't admit it. Whether or not she wants it to happen, everyone was, and is, worried about her. She can't change that, no matter what she says or doesn't say."

"That's true." Ginny looked down at the floor.

Harry gently lifted her chin up. "You were trying to tell me, weren't you?" He asked softly. "Without betraying her trust. You told me I could relate best to her, now. That I'm no different from her. We're both alone, now."

Ginny shook her head firmly, looking adamant. "_Neither_ of you are alone." She announced to him fiercely. "You have the biggest, most diverse, most brilliant, most wonderful, most loving family that ever was." She winked, here. "Obviously, most of this has to do with me being a part of it." She grew serious again. "But, honestly, we are here for you both no matter what happens. Hermione's been a stubborn hermit for the past few weeks, but have we abandoned her? No, just like we would never abandon you. We all love you both."

Harry snorted. "Apparently, Ron finds it easy to abandon his so-called 'family'."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Ron is a dunce who can't find his heart under the piles of self-fulfillment and ego. But no matter what happens, know that _I_ love you." Here she stepped closer, and gently kissed him on the lips. "And I love Hermione, and once she comes back, we need to let her know that at all costs, we are there for her. Family doesn't back out when things get rough or hard or awkward. That's the difference between family and friends."

Harry kissed her again, and held her close. "I promise." He told her. "I'm going to have a long talk with her when she gets back, and this time I won't let her run away."

--

Draco Malfoy stared down at the bubbling golden liquid. Not only was he dehydrated and starving, but he looked like he had rolled through a pig pen—and he could tell this _without_ checking in a mirror!

He really wasn't sure what had possessed him to venture on this crazy chase. He was pretty sure even _Potter_ hadn't tried anything this stupid.

The little bottle seemed so delicate and breakable in his hand. There were maybe ten drops of liquid in it—ten swirling, bubbling, frothing promises. He had five chances for luck; two drops per chance. Should he use one now?

Why even debate? Of course he should use one now.

But then again…if he got a chance with Hermione later, and he regretted it….

Since when did Hermione come before his life? This was the choice between drinking something before he collapsed, or getting some in the future that may not exist if he didn't get something to drink.

Before his thoughts could betray him again, he opened the bottle and held it over his mouth. Two drops of liquid fell in, and he quickly closed it and stowed it away in his pocket.

He didn't feel any different, except for that strange sensation, like melted gold was sliding down his insides. Essentially, that's what Felix Felicis was—or at least, what it looked like.

Still not sure how exactly the potion worked, he began to wander, going this way and that. He was already hopelessly lost in the Forest; a few steps to the left and then a leap and a hop forward wouldn't help or hurt the situation.

Several galloping hops later, where he tried to jump higher than he previously had, he found himself almost stumbling into a pool of water.

Water!

He grabbed the bottle out of his pocket and kissed it several times before slipping it back in, carefully. He then looked again; it wasn't a dream! There was an oasis, right there! He knelt down on the side of the glittering, freshwater pool and took a deep drink. The leaf-covered ground underneath him was staining his robes, but he really didn't care, at the moment.

On the other side of the pool were several tall palm trees, and a lush carpet of emerald-colored grass that ran a few feet in each direction and abruptly melted into the dirty forest ground.

Yes, this was definitely the doings of the luck potion.

He wasn't under the impression that the luck potion _created_ things, which it most definitely didn't—but it helped turn the situation in his favor. The oases had already existed, of course—he had read about them for a Herbology essay—but the luck potion had helped him find one easily.

The sun was high in the sky—above this oasis, there was nothing but blue, blue sky. It was as if the forest stopped for a few feet, like it no longer existed for this small expanse. If he figured it correctly—from what he could remember from Astronomy—it was around lunchtime back at Hogwarts. He briefly wondered if anyone noticed he was gone.

He noticed several coconuts high up in the palm trees, and ran around the water to access them. He successfully got a few down with his wand, and broke them open. At least he had some nourishment, and a bath whenever he wanted it. At least he wasn't going to die, yet.

Hermione was the farthest thing from his mind as he hungrily drank from the coconuts. Sure, he was concerned about her, but he was not a selfless person—he was actually rather selfish, and he was more concerned about his own life than hers, at this point. He couldn't really remember what had possessed him to enter the forest in the first place, just for _her_sake. Maybe he could no longer deny that he didn't hate her anymore, but she was definitely not important enough to risk his life for. If he had any way to get out of the forest, he would, in a heartbeat.

--

Blaise Zabini was sitting on a blush leather sofa in the Slytherin common room, his fingertips forming a triangle as he surveyed the room.

"Well?" Pansy Parkinson asked, coming to sit next to him.

Blaise shook his head. "He's definitely gone."

Pansy pouted. "But I was looking forward to this afternoon! We were going to spend it together." She grinned suggestively.

The dark-skinned boy raised an eyebrow. "You _actually_ believe that?"

She shrugged, looking put out. "I suppose not," She finally agreed, lowering her voice so no one else could hear. "He's been…different, lately."

Blaise looked incredulous. "You know why, don't you?"

"Honestly!" Pansy declared defensively. "What kind of fool do you take me for? He's clearly crumbling under the stress of not knowing what to do about…well…you know. _Him._"

Blaise rolled his eyes at her. "Right."

She narrowed her eyes. "And that Mudblood."

He pretended to sigh in relief. "For a minute you had me worried."

"Oh, Blaiseykins." She muttered in a fake, sugar-coated voice. "Why_ever_ would I give you reason to worry?"

They laughed, and then Blaise said, "I trust his judgment though. She can't be that bad, if he's willing to spend so much time with her."

"They're probably fuck-buddies." Pansy said disgustedly. "What else could he possibly want from _her_?"

Blaise chuckled, though in reality it was at her—she didn't even realize that all Draco liked about her was that she put out. She was a quick shag; he knew right well that Draco would never think about a proper relationship with her. He kept it to himself, though.

Still, the Granger girl had him wondering. He himself was not a man of prejudice or sides—he was on his own side, as Draco was. They neither agreed nor disagreed with their parents, which was what kept them alive; had they even suggested an inkling of the fact that they might not believe in the Dark Lord, they wouldn't have a fighting chance. This was what had taught them both, at a young age, that they could only be out for themselves, to dodge the deceit and lies and treachery and downright cruelty that seemed to be their birthright. Along the way, they had forged a friendship of steel with each other: they were not only out for themselves, but each other.

But that was all.

However, this was what propelled Blaise's curiosity. Draco was the only person in the world who he trusted with his life. He would never admit this aloud, of course—it was an unspoken understanding between them. They would backstab their own blood before they would backstab each other.

So what was with the Granger girl? He knew she was highly intelligent. She had always seemed like such a bore, though—a dry, library-dwelling creature. Draco would never go for that type. So he must be missing something. The only way to find out would be to talk to her.

He left Pansy in the common room and headed towards the Great Hall; he hadn't had lunch yet anyways, so he might as well go now and try and catch her. Her blood didn't bother him in the least; 'blood status' was just another way of making sides, and in his world, there were only two sides—him and Draco, and everyone else.

This wasn't to say that he didn't, in the back of his mind, think himself superior to Granger and those Gryffindors; he put it on his cunning and wit and qualities that put him one step ahead of them.

She wasn't there. That was strange. He turned around and left, wondering where she could be. Maybe up in the Heads' common room? Perhaps she had gotten something to eat from up there. He headed up, and said the password. Draco had already given him the list of passwords (orally, of course, they couldn't trust it being written down) for each of the portraits, and Blaise, having an outstanding memory, hadn't forgotten them. The common room was empty.

Strange. It was definitely strange that Draco and Granger were both missing at the same time. Perhaps he was jumping to conclusions, but…well, he_had _seen his friend leaving Hogwarts, and heading towards the Forbidden Forest. He had thought it was just to vent, let off some hot steam—but what if he had never come back? He shuddered involuntarily, and was immensely relieved that no one was around to see it. He had to find Granger, because she might know where Draco was.

He turned to leave, determined to find her at some point. She might be in the library, but that wouldn't be an ideal place to interview her, in any case. He could catch her between classes, before or after a Slytherin-Gryffindor joint class, like Potions. Yes, that would be good. They had Potions this afternoon, so he would catch up with her then.

--

Hermione got up off the ground, feeling fully refreshed. Her head still hurt slightly, but it wasn't any physical injury: it was all the emotional stress that she had been dealing with over the past few days. Was that really all it had been? Days? She couldn't even remember. No, it had been more than days. Right?

Shaking her head, she looked up at the sky. It was past lunchtime; her friends had most definitely noticed her absence by now. Well, Harry would know, had he come up to her room right after she had left. She had made it quite obvious that she had left, just so that he knew she had gone by herself and hadn't been taken or anything ridiculous like that. She would have written a note, but she knew it was only a matter of seconds before he would come up to check on her.

She really had to get back. She was feeling a bit better, anyways, and a bit stronger—more resolved. That stupid boy wouldn't break her, she was Hermione Granger! She didn't back down, and she didn't give up. Somebody up in the stars immensely ostracized her for some reason, but she wasn't going to submit.

A sudden thought occurred to her—it was two weeks till the All Hallow's Ball! She didn't even know if she was going to go; Ginny had practically threatened her into it, and yes, Ginny had said they would go alone and have fun, but Ginny would most definitely get caught up with Harry. Angylin had Ron, and Lavender and Parvati would figure it out with Seamus and Dean. Neville had taken a shine to Luna, and vice versa, so they were most likely going to be spending the night together. Where did that leave her? Oh, so alone. So why even bother going? She didn't have a dress, anyways.

Either way, she had better get back to school.

She took a deep breath, and focused all her energy on a picture of Hogwarts. Then she Apparated, and felt herself land on the ground with a pop; she was almost afraid to open her eyes, fearful of what she might see.

First she peeked with one eye, then the other, and then deep relief flowed through her. She was in the right spot, right outside Hogwarts' grounds. She practically ran up the lawn, her hair flying behind her, the cool air biting at her. She reached the school and was surprised to see the lobby deserted; it must be during a class.

She raced up to her dorm, hoping that whatever class it was wouldn't end before she got there. She knew she had to face her friends at some point or another, and it was something she really had to do, but she would rather it be after she had a shower and fixed herself up.

She made it, luckily enough, and took a five-minute shower with the help of magic and dried her hair and dressed in record time.

After grabbing her books, she headed out, just as whatever class that had been going on ended. She felt so much better as she headed towards Potions, which she was pretty sure was next, as she had seen, through a window, Neville heading up from Herbology, and he was always excitedly recounting his Herbology adventures during Potions. Even if she was heading towards the dungeons, she felt like she was ready to face whatever came her way.

--

"Granger." Blaise called as the girl started walking down the stairs.

She turned, looking confused. "Zabini?"

He nodded at her, smirking at her obvious uncertainty. With a few long strides, he had caught up to her.

Her face had relapsed into one of slight dislike. As far as she knew, he hated her for her blood. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this…visit, per se?"

"I am just_so_ fascinated by you, Miss Granger. Let me take your books." He could be charming when he wanted to be, no doubt. She was so shocked that he easily took her books from her.

If anything, her mystification grew. "Are you, Mr. Zabini? And pray tell, what brought about this 'fascination,'?"

"My consort's obvious interest in you. I'd like to find out for myself what he sees."

She snorted. "Your _consort_? Are you kidding? Too above having friends, I see."

"Now, now." He sounded like a teacher reprimanding a student. "Let's not go and make judgments, Miss Granger."

She rolled her eyes. "Clearly, I am not the one between the two of us that makes more _harsh_ and _unfair_ judgments. Please don't ask me to elaborate, because you know full well what I'm insinuating."

"Tsk, tsk. Again with the judgments! What, in Merlin's name, could ever make you think that I had any preconceived notions about you?"

"Don't act innocent." She took her books back in one smooth, planned movement.

"So, Miss Granger doesn't take anything from anyone?"

"Least of all _you_." She confirmed. "If you'd excuse me, I have to—"

"But this conversation isn't over." He told her.

"Actually, it—"

"No. I'd like to clear up any confusion that may have come between us in the past." Here she wrinkled her nose at how he was making it could be something normal for them to be friends. But then again, it wasn't normal for her and Draco to be friends…but he was a chapter that was over, finished. She had promised to not let him fool her again, right? "I have made no judgments against you. I just didn't try to stop you from thinking I had." He shrugged. "We can be civil, can't we? You and Draco seem to have gotten that down."

Here she couldn't help the disgusted sound that came from her throat. "If you plan on getting it down like Malfoy had, then I suggest you never talk to me again."

He was surprised. "I was under the impression that you and Draco were getting along swimmingly."

She laughed harshly. "If by 'swimmingly' you mean me bearing my heart to him and him throwing it back in my face? I swear, he has multiple personalities. I cry in his arms one night, and the next he's going around telling—" She stopped suddenly, and stared at Blaise. "Bloody hell, I just said that out loud, didn't I?"

Her complete deer-in-headlights expression caused Blaise to burst out laughing. She was extremely taken aback by this, having never heard him actually laugh in a nice way at something before, but then a small smile came over her face. "I can't believe I just heard you swear."

"And I can't believe I just said all that to you. He's your best mate. You're going to make chummy with him and do your best to ruin my life."

"Ah, but you underestimate me." He told her, a mischievous gleam in his eye. "Another of your oh-so-many faults." She was surprised to hear his somewhat teasing tone, not quite mean. He straightened. "In any case, you're safe. Draco's nowhere to be found."

Her expression changed—exactly the reaction Blaise had been hoping for. "What do you mean?" She was trying to hide it, but she was nervous. He was a perceptive person—he could tell. She wouldn't quite look at him.

"He's been missing since last night. No idea where he's gone to."

She bit her bottom lip. "You have no idea? None at all?"

"Well, I did see him heading towards the Forbidden Forest, but why would he do that?" He paused, enjoying her gasp, then rushed on. "In any case, why do you care so much? I thought he was a wanker to you?"

She shrugged a little too quickly. "No one to do Heads' duties. I can't do it all myself!"

"Nice try." Blaise smirked. "Let me know before you go, I'd like to time you." He gave her one last look, and then turned and walked into the Potions classroom ahead of her.

Hermione was left standing there, utterly bewildered by him and all he had said.

She shook her head and followed him in, met by the curious stares of her housemates. The Slytherins acted normally, having no knowledge of her disappearance.

She took her seat next to Harry and laid out her books, then turned towards him. "Harry, I—"

He looked grim, and shook his head, causing her to stop talking. "I'm so sorry, Hermione." He whispered, and took her hand under the table.

Hermione's head whipped around, but none of the other Gryffindors were giving her the same look that Harry had just given her—they all just looked curious. She sighed in relief. Ginny had probably told him. She probably should have told him earlier, but she just…couldn't. "No." She replied. "_I'm_ sorry. I should have told you. You're my best friend in the world, and you deserved to know first."

He smiled a little. "Now we relate even better."

She rolled her eyes. "Don't say that, you morbid boy."

"I'm glad you're feeling better." He told her quietly, then let go of her hand and took out his writing materials as Snape started giving out instructions.

Class passed by quietly—it was a day of writing, rather than potion making. Hermione took down her notes carefully; after having missed so much throughout the last few weeks, she had some serious making-up to do.

A piece of parchment fluttered into her lap rather randomly halfway through class. She picked it up, and it was blank. She made a face at it, then tapped it with her wand under the table so nobody, not even Harry, would notice.

It had five words on it:

_Is the new girl available?_

And was signed with a rather fancy-looking B.

Blaise.

Merlin, what was he _up_ to?

But he had seemed decent, judging by the conversation they had had. Unsettlingly on cue when it came to certain things, but that wasn't a bad trait. She glanced at Angylin out of the corner of her eye, busy taking down her notes. During a pause in Snape's lecture, Harry had filled her in on his task from Dumbledore to stop Angylin from getting into fights, and Ron's consequential jealousy. So yes, Angylin was available, as of right now.

_Go for it_, she wrote quickly, _but she's rather fierce, so you might want to avoid games._

The note disappeared as soon as she put her quill down, and she assumed that it had reassembled itself on Blaise's desk.

Twenty seconds later, it was back. His elegant cursive had written: _Fiercer than you? Terrifying. In any case, I've always rather fancied those Americans. And I did happen to witness her attack on D. It was in your name, was it not?_

_Yes, but of no fault of mine_. She told him. Then she paused. _What will people say about you asking a Gryffindor?_

_Whatever they want to say. Maybe your idiot Weasel friend will figure out what a twat he is…and I can rub salt on his wounds._

She laughed a little at this, and Harry looked at her curiously before going back to his own work. She took down notes for a few minutes before answering Blaise. _We can only hope. (Ignoring the latter, and how utterly Slytherin that is of you.)_

The note didn't return, and Hermione's mind went back to her notes for the rest of class.

As soon as class ended, she caught up with Angylin.

Angylin gasped when she saw her, and threw her arms around her, nearly dropping her own books and almost causing Hermione to drop her own. "You're back!"

Hermione smiled. "Yes, I remembered that I must have been giving you all a good scare."

"Good scare is right!" The other girl agreed, releasing her hold.

"I feel loads better now, though." Hermione told her thoughtfully. "Much stronger." She grinned. "I'm even thinking about popping into Hogsmeade at the end of the week to get my dress for the All Hallow's Ball. You're going, right?"

Angylin shrugged half-heartedly. "I haven't been asked. Harry probably told you about King Pig Ron."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Yes, but it was no earth-shattering news. He can be so immature. Anyways, all hope's not lost on you, yet." She grinned mischievously.

Angylin raised an eyebrow. "Come again?"

Hermione just grinned secretively. "If you have a dress, don't throw it away." She told her, quite unhelpfully. She tactfully changed the subject, then: "Have any teachers inquired about me? I expect I'm going to get called down to Dumbledore's office, soon."

"Nobody's asked me." Angylin told her. "I think Harry might have talked to Dumbledore, though. He went out of his mind, looking for you—didn't sleep a wink last night."

The guilt in Hermione's mind far outweighed the comfort she felt that he cared enough to spend all night searching. How could she have done that to him? First she pushed him away, acted distant, and then left him to lose sleep over her, to boot? Letting him know that she had gone willingly wasn't enough. She just shouldn't have gone, and dealt with it all on her own.

A little part of her knew that she wouldn't feel the way she did now, the strength and immobility, if she hadn't gone, but she could sacrifice that for the well being of her dearest friend.

The rest of the day's classes passed quickly, and before she knew it, it was dinnertime. She walked there with Harry, and Ron was still nowhere in sight—she briefly wondered where he had gotten off to, but decided now was not the time to press the issue.

Luna and Neville joined them on their way to the Great Hall.

"Hello!" Hermione greeted excitedly.

They both looked happily surprised. "Where did you get to?" Neville asked, and she was still amazed by the confidence radiating from him that had been missing in the years past.

She sighed noncommittally. "Just sorting some things out, I suppose." She brightened. "But I'm all better now! Now tell me, are you two going to the ball together?"

They both blushed and looked at each other before looking away, which Hermione thought was adorable. They engaged in conversation after that all the way until the Great Hall, where they sat nearby each other and talked through the meal.

As Hermione was finishing, and she was thinking about why the Headmaster hadn't invited her to his office yet, her eyes strayed to the Slytherin table, unconsciously searching for Malfoy.

She hadn't been to their dorm since she had showered, and…well…where was he?

Blaise's words suddenly struck her again: _Well, I did see him heading towards the Forbidden Forest, but why would he do that?_

For me! She felt like yelling. She didn't know for certain, but she had a sneaking suspicion….

She had to go after him. Whether or not she was on good terms with him right now, her inner Gryffindor would not let her sit around while he possibly starved or dehydrated to death in that overgrown gathering of trees.

She got up so quickly that everyone turned to her, startled. They had been in the middle of the conversation, and hadn't really noticed Hermione's dazed expression. She apologized quickly, promised she wasn't having another emotional breakdown, and raced out of there as quickly as possible. It took her ten minutes to get up to her dorm, grab a cloak, glance outside at the sun, which was almost fully set below the horizon, check for her wand, and run back downstairs towards the doors that led out to the Hogwarts grounds.

She ran almost straight into Blaise on the way.

"What did I tell you about coming to get me before you left?" He reprimanded, tsk-ing.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Now really isn't the time to be funny, so—"

"Here." He smoothly cut her off, and thrust a few potions into her arms. "These'll help if he's in bad shape." She opened her mouth to ask what each one was, so she didn't accidentally use the wrong one, but he cut her off with a shake of his head. "They've got labels, Granger. I trust you can read?"

She once again opened her mouth with a fiery comeback, but he grinned before she could say anything. "I'm off to go find your American friend. Good luck." And with that, he walked away.

That man! He made her almost as angry as Malfoy did. She shook her head to clear it and once again headed for the doors.

This time, she was stopped by someone else's voice. "Hermione!"

She turned to find Harry jogging towards her from the direction of the Great Hall. She sighed. _Please don't talk me out of this_… "Yes?"

"Here." He gave her a blank piece of parchment.

She looked down at it, confused.

He grinned. "You're really not all that brilliant as they say you are." He informed her, and then his smile dropped. "It's the Marauder's Map. It'll help you find Malfoy…I know that's who you're going after." At her incredulous look, he added, "I know he's a prick, but I know he went after you. I'm not that thick. I figured it out. Why else would he be missing at the same exact time as you? He was guilty. Who knew?" He laughed dryly. "Anyways, now maybe even if he doesn't make it, you definitely will." He hugged her, and then stepped back. "I was going to offer to come, but I already knew you wouldn't let me. Good luck." He grinned at her one more time, and then turned and walked back towards the Great Hall.

She looked down at the Map and the potions in her arms. Now that she was armed with the necessary equipment, she felt silly for even thinking about going without them. The forest was huge, and while she was slightly skilled at Healing, she was no professional. She laughed at how lucky it was that they had caught her, and that they were both so smart.

And then she turned, and headed out into the night.


	19. Chapter 19

**Never Lose Strength**

**Chapter 19**

Angylin was heading towards the library, her jaw set. She had argued with herself for a total of twenty minutes before finally deciding that she _had_ to go to the library to finish the Potions essay they had been assigned. It didn't matter that she was fully skeptical about Hermione's intentions when she had fled the Great Hall, or that dark thoughts of what she might do to set Ron straight were invading her brain.

_Focus_! No matter what drama was happening all around her, she couldn't let it distract her from her one solid goal: to graduate Hogwarts. She had already vowed to herself that Hogwarts would be the last school she would attend.

She was in the home stretch. Just down this hallway, and she would reach the lib…

Her thoughts were abruptly cut off by a somewhat large body blocking her path.

"Good evening."

Angylin squinted, then looked up. The voice was unfamiliar—sounded more like a stuffy Brit than anyone she had heard so far. If she were to put it more kindly, it sounded aristocratic. Standing before her was a boy she had seen around, but never really talked to; he associated with Draco Malfoy, and therefore immediately went to her bad list. His ebony skin shone in the torch-lit hallway, and his eyes were dark and brooding, almost.

For some reason that she really couldn't explain, he appealed to her.

"Um, hi." She paused. "Do I know you?"

"Not yet, but you will." He winked, and she was surprised by his playful tone; he didn't seem like the type. "Blaise Zabini, pleased to make your acquaintance."

He twirled his arm in a stately bow, and then straightened up.

She had expected a simple handshake, but okay. "If you're expecting me to curtsy, you might as well look outside for flying pigs." It wasn't in her nature to be nice to complete strangers, however…appealing…he may be.

"Fair enough." He smirked, and she had to admire his smoothness. "May I escort you to the library?"

She growled and crossed her arms over her chest. Could he lay it on any thicker? If he expected her to be charmed, he had another thing coming. "What makes you think I'm going there?" She demanded stubbornly.

His smirk didn't grow, but seemed a little more infuriating. "Why, I'm in your Potions class. You hadn't noticed? I'm _devastated_." He clutched his heart in a tacky display (which he still somehow managed to execute elegantly), though his smirk never left.

She couldn't help the smile that crossed her face. "All right, funny boy, you can _walk with me_. Unfortunately, my dead-set American morals don't allow for _escorting_." Her tone was dry as she walked around him and started towards the library once more.

With a single stride, he had caught up. "Do your American morals allow for an escort to a ball?" He inquired, in that not-quite-serious tone that made her doubt his sincerity somewhat.

She furrowed a brow. Was he, in a roundabout way, asking her to the All Hallow's Ball? It was entirely possible, considering Hermione had even hinted that she shouldn't un-prepare herself for the situation. Being a straightforward person, she said, "Are you asking me to the dance—I mean, ball?"

"I could be." He replied vaguely.

She rolled her eyes. "Don't give me that." She glanced ahead, and saw that the library was fast approaching. "Are you asking me or not?"

"If I were to ask you, what would you answer?" He returned.

She groaned. "_Please_ tell me you have the balls to ask me directly."

He grinned. "Why didn't you say so? Angylin, would you allow me to escort you to the All Hallow's Ball?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Okay, two things. First, you should wait for me to introduce myself because that's weird that you know my name, and second, can you lay off all the sugary language? It's kind of making me sick."

"Dearest Angylin, how would I not know your name, the mysterious transfer student? And that, my lady, is just something you're going to have to live with."

They stopped outside the library doors. She turned to him. "Guess I'll see you around, Blaise." She grinned at him, and then turned to walk through.

"Will you be my date?" He called after her, as she was about to step through. "Step inside, it'll be a yes. Stay where you are, it's a no."

She paused only for a second, half of her foot through the door. Then she smiled, her back still to him, and stepped all the way through.

Blaise grinned triumphantly, borderline egotistically, and headed off down the hallway, whistling.

--

Harry put his arm around Ginny protectively as he stared into the fire. It was cozy, up there in the Gryffindor Common Room, with all his friends—

But someone was missing.

His thoughts absentmindedly drifted to Hermione, and her little quest. He didn't blame her for feeling some sort of companionship towards even someone as despicable as Draco Malfoy, because she was just that sort of person: even if it had only been for a little over a month and a half, they had been living together, and Hermione probably couldn't handle living in a constantly hateful environment. So perhaps they had made some form of amends—that made sense.

And then it was Hermione's loving spirit that sent her after him.

It wasn't like she could help it. If something had happened to Malfoy, especially after it was painfully obvious that he had gone after _her_, she would crumble under the guilt. Besides, she was a natural mother duck—her prime goal in life was to make sure everyone else was okay, and be there for everyone else when they were in trouble.

He remembered his conversation with Ginny, about her needing a good cry once in a while.

"You all right?" Ginny asked, knocking her shoulder against his gently.

He started, then focused on her and smiled. "Yeah, just thinking."

"Who knew?" She deadpanned, and snickered when he pretended to be hurt.

Neville and Luna were playing Exploding Snap on one of the tables, while Lavender, Parvati, and several other Gryffindors were lounging around. Ron was nowhere in sight: but then again, he rarely had been since their falling-out. Still, he refused to think about that, because although it felt terrible not having Ron around, it was of no fault of his that they weren't speaking. Until Ron figured out what a prat he was being, Harry would stay distant.

Seamus and Dean sat down in the armchairs across from them, and Seamus leaned forward and waved two pieces of parchment with drawings on them in front of Harry's face. "We've got it! The perfect counter-play to the Potter Pounding!"

Harry narrowed his eyes, and leaned forward as well, releasing Ginny and thrusting out both hands to grab the parchments. He examined one of them carefully; Seamus had used the new magical ink he had gotten over summer, and the tiny Quidditch players moved across a drawn-to-scale field, demonstrating.

Harry had spent hours over the summer poring over his perfect play, the one he had created and Dean had dubbed the Potter Pounding. For three weeks, Seamus and Dean had had possession of the parchment he had drawn the play on, and they had been attempting to create a counter-play.

"No," Harry disagreed, holding up both his play and their counter-play side-by-side. "This Chaser here could go—"

Ginny, still lounging back on the couch, chose this moment to edge into the conversation. "Actually, the Chaser is covered by that Beater, right there." She gestured lazily to Seamus and Dean's parchment, and rolled her eyes as if to say, exasperatedly, "boys!"

Harry sat back, looking annoyed. "If you know so well, why don't _you_ make a perfect play?"

"As a matter of fact, I will." Ginny replied defiantly, then grabbed the parchment and took the quill Seamus was handing her. "Ink?" She asked.

Seamus shook his head. "It's all in there, just write. It automatically refills itself."

A little impressed, she looked at the quill for a second, then shrugged and focused on the Potter Pounding. She moved a few players around, then drew out their courses of action, an intricate design of lines that would only have been understood by someone who truly understood Quidditch. She worked for a few minutes, then sat back and admired it. She squinted up her eyes, then quickly scratched out "Potter Pounding" (written at the top of the parchment) and replaced it with the "Weasley Whooping."

"Whooping?" Dean asked, laughing. He made his voice shriller. "Oh, no! I got _whooped_!" He proceeded to laugh harder.

Ginny couldn't help the small smile that came to her face, no matter how hard she was trying to be annoyed. "Git! You're just jealous _you_ aren't going to get a Weasley Whooping." She smiled seductively.

"Whoa, no!" Harry interjected quickly, throwing his arm back around Ginny.

Ginny, Seamus, and Dean, all burst out laughing as Harry looked put out.

"Just give me the sodding parchment." He growled, not quite angrily, reaching for the paper in Ginny's hand.

She snatched it away. "I'm pondering a name change. What do you think about Weasley Whacking? Weasley Wonder? The Weasley Spectacular!" She threw her arms up dramatically.

"That doesn't start with W." Seamus informed her.

She snorted. "Thanks for that bit of genius. Much appreciated."

Harry sat back, patiently waiting for Ginny to sort out her name issues and give him the parchment. So okay, things weren't too bad. They were good. Great. Wonderful. Now if Hermione would just get back, quickly, everything would be perfect.

--

It was chilly. That was the first thought that registered in Hermione's brain as she headed out across the Hogwarts grounds.

But then adrenaline kicked in, and all fantasies of cozy common-room fires flitted away into the dark night. Now she was a powerful witch with a game plan and no intention to let that get interrupted.

She neared the edge of the Forest, and light sprang to life at the end of her wand. It was silent magic; extreme emotion was allowing her to do that. She gazed at it for a few seconds, and then tapped it, light and all, against the Marauder's Map, whispering the—literally—magic words. Dark lines began spreading across it, eventually making up the intricate map of Hogwarts and all its grounds. Right now, as if sensing her aim, Hogwarts was but a labeled box in the corner and the Forbidden Forest was clearly drawn out. As of now, it showed nobody but herself, a lone, tiny flag in the center of the map.

"Show me Draco Malfoy," She whispered, a little frustrated, saying his full name just in case, by any miracle, the map understood her.

To her utter astonishment and confusion, the page went blank. She knitted a brow, then tapped her wand against it again while saying the words. Still, nothing happened.

"Great." She muttered, annoyed, because there went her chance.

She couldn't turn back now, in any case. She began to walk, plunging into the pitch darkness of the Forest. Except for her and her globe of light, the place seemed motionless, lifeless. Every twig that snapped underneath her feet seemed to resound, a million times louder than it should have been.

Every few minutes, she would stop to check the map. It was still blank, which worried her; how far could she go without getting irrevocably lost? It wouldn't help any matters if and Malfoy were _both_ lost, but in separate parts of the Forest. It was entirely possible: really, it was a huge, confusing place.

She stopped to take a rest, leaning against a tree so thick that her arms probably couldn't reach even halfway around the trunk. To her, this was unimpressive; she had seen older, larger trees; besides, she wasn't much concerned about the size of trees in the godforsaken Forest, not now, at least.

Just then, the map decided to spring back to life. Instead of showing a map, though, words appeared in neat script across the page:

_Sorry about the delay, we seem to have had some technical difficulties._

_ The Map wouldn't let us indicate _Draco Malfoy_ as an enemy._

_ You'll find that he is not marked as a threat._

_ We apologize for not being able to mark him as such, as he is clearly a foul and dangerous creature; we are but humble servants of this Map, and the Map mistakenly thinks that he is something other than a ferret-like wanker._

Slowly, the words disappeared, and the map reappeared on the parchment. Hermione was slightly amused, but slightly troubled by the words brought forth by the creators of the Map—Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs. Although, really, she couldn't be sure: it was one of the things that remained a mystery, even to Hermione—who or what exactly was the mind behind the Map. Since a few of the Marauders were deceased, how could they all still be replying here? And had it been them that had responded to Snape's attempts to crack the map? Ah, well. That was a mystery for a later time.

For now, she could only shake her head and attempt to find his flag. When she finally did, she groaned—he was all the way on the other side of the Forest. Just their luck, really!

She set off on her way, following the direction the map told her to with decisively straight steps. Her steps gradually quickened, until she was practically running, unaware of the various things slapping at her and scratching her. She didn't even realize she had been cut several times until some blood dripped from her shoulder onto the map. She frowned, then, but ignored it and kept up the pace. What worried her was that Draco's flag wasn't moving: and this was a detailed map. It would show even the slightest movement. At least the flag was wavering a little, as if in a wind, which she took to mean that he was breathing.

It seemed like she had been running forever. She could no longer feel her legs, and her breath felt like it would only last a moment longer, a moment longer, a moment longer with each step. She wondered if it was possible to perish from over-exertion, briefly, but pushed the thought away as the fact that someone was in trouble and needed her help came to the forefront of her mind.

She didn't dare stop; she feared that if she did, she wouldn't be able to start back up. As she ran, she looked down at the Map clutched in her hands—she was closer to him, but the distance still seemed so far, even on the small map.

It was impossible for her to track the time. Exhaustion took over her brain, and she had run out of songs to hum to herself, and hence had started the old ones again. She was trying her hardest to remember the Sorting Hat's song and sing it to herself, but try as she might, the last few verses seemed to have slipped her mind. She had already resorted to the cheesiest Muggle songs—the ones by Justin Timberlake, Britney Spears. They brought back childhood memories. Musicals…the Phantom of the Opera. Books; Dr. Seuss; one fish, two fish, red fish, blue fish. The thoughts whirled around in her brain as she tried to keep herself occupied. She sang the slow songs faster and the fast songs slower to keep in time with her pounding feet, and recited the other passages along with it. She fell back on the Raven by Edgar Allen Poe when all else failed her, and Frost, and all those lovely poets. Right now, it was a chore to remember all the verses…she was mixing up words….

She could absolutely, positively, not go on. She collapsed to the ground, yelling at herself internally for not bringing water. She considered pulling out the vials of potion and seeing if one was strength-restoring or hydrating, but she stopped herself, telling herself snippily that that was an utterly selfish thing to do and he would need it more than she, when she found him.

This thought propelled her to her feet again, and even with jelly-like legs she began slow steps in the right direction. She checked the Map almost feverishly, making sure she wasn't going too much to the left or right. Why waste energy that didn't need to be wasted?

The distance was closing. It was getting smaller and smaller in reality, but on the map larger and larger as it zoomed in. It was as if it sensed where she needed to go, and was helping her get there more precisely.

And then it showed that her flag was directly on top of his.

But she didn't see him.

Quite confused, she looked down to make sure she wasn't on top of him. No, that was just leaves. She looked around, her lighted wand not making much headway in helping her see. She had to admit, she was a little spooked—why did the Marauder's Map have to malfunction _now_, of all times? Even if whoever was behind the Map's mysterious words didn't think she should go to Malfoy, it had no business deterring her from her trail.

And then Malfoy's flag did the most peculiar thing: it hopped. Well, not hopped, so much, but…moved. Jumped. How could it? He wasn't here. She had looked all around. She explored the surrounding area, but found herself back where she had started, only a little farther to the left. _What_?

She glanced up at the inky-black sky, barely visible through the canopy of trees.

Trees!

"Draco Malfoy!" She tried to yell, her voice coming out slightly wavering and none too loud through her parched throat. "Get down here this instant!"

There was a definite rustling in the tree directly above her, but no reply.

She had half a mind to go up there and fetch him, but then rethought it and decided that was ridiculous. She put her hands firmly on her hips and yelled again, this time in a much clearer, louder voice: "Get your arse down here before I hex you out of that tree!"

There was a crunching sound, then breaking, tumbling, crashing….

Draco Malfoy landed on the lowermost branch of the tree, looking a little drugged. "G'day." He warbled, waving a little drunkenly at her.

"Are you…" She hesitated. "Smashed?"

He laughed loudly. "No, just hallucinating. Thank you for asking, though." He looked a bit too cheerful to be Draco Malfoy in his right mind, so she believed him.

"You're not hallucinating, you know." She said finally, after a pause.

He waved it away, still lying chest-down on a branch. "Oh, I've heard that one before."

Hermione sighed, and dug around in her pockets for the little vials of potion. They were simply labeled, probably not with the real potion names but just their effects: Pepper-Up (Blaise probably thought it was safe to use the real potion name because it was such a common one), Hydration, Drip Onto Deep Wounds ONLY, Ingest For Small Wounds, Nourishment, Knock-Out, Dreamless Sleep, and Extra Magic/Strength Supply.

She almost laughed with relief, and quickly downed the Extra Magic/Strength Supply. Clearly, that was intended for her: Blaise really thought of _everything_. She immediately felt more energized, though her throat still hurt badly.

"Wingardium Leviosa," She said, pointing her wand at Malfoy. He didn't protest as she floated him safely to the ground, even as he landed on his stomach, looking up at her. His eyes were closed, as if in bliss. What had _happened_ to make him so loopy? It was probably lack of food, water, and someone to talk to.

But she didn't know. She decided none of the potions except Knock-Out would really be risk-free; if he had gotten bitten by something or something equally bad, any of the other potions might damage it further. She didn't see any open wounds, and when she questioned him on if anything hurt, he said no.

"Here, take this." She helped him sit up and tipped the Knock-Out potion down his throat; in a few seconds, he was completely wiped out, his head lolling limply on her shoulder.

She levitated him again, pointing him in front of her. This was a little risky, as it was over-over-over-exertion to try and levitate him at the same time as keeping the little light at the end of her wand on. But then again, Hermione Granger always was an extraordinary witch with enough strength of mind for anything life thrust at her. Besides, she had taken Blaise's potion; it provided excess energy, so she figured she could probably at least make it out of the Forbidden Forest, in which case someone would find them sooner or later.

It was a much shorter distance out of the Forest than she had traveled. That was because she had plunged into the Forest almost on the other side of where Malfoy was, so she had to walk the entire length. Now it was just the distance from where they were _out_.

Compared to what she had walked, the distance was so short that it made hope bubble up inside her. They would get that far. They _had_ to. This entire misunderstanding, and everything that everyone had done to correct it…well, it _had_ to earn them a happy ending, or at least one that had them both in it, safe and healthy.

Even in the dim light radiating from Hermione's wand, she saw that Malfoy looked tons paler than usual. She had to get him to the Hospital Wing, fast!

New determination hurried up Hermione's gait. Now she was not only responsible for herself, but another person. Responsibility worked well for Hermione. She began to power-walk, and then run, until she came bursting out of the forest and onto school grounds, which were still bathed in moonlight. So she couldn't have been in there that long, right?

Her mind stopped working in the few seconds it took to sprint up to the castle. No rational thoughts entered or left her brain. It was as if it had gone on standby, until she reached the castle doors and pushed one open and hurried inside. Then her brain switched back on, telling her nothing except for what directions to go in to get to the Hospital Wing.

She paused briefly outside the Hospital Wing to whisper, "Mischief Managed." To the parchment. To her surprise, the Map melted away, even though she hadn't tapped her wand against it. Maybe the rather intelligent map had sensed that she didn't have the ability to do so, as she was currently performing two constant charms with said wand and it was draining her energy, fast. Her mind was working so rapidly that she hadn't thought to end the Lumos charm, still lighting up the end of her wand.

She stepped inside while stuffing the now-blank parchment haphazardly into a pocket of her robe. She had made it. She stood, panting, inside Madame Pomfrey's domain, feeling her energy sliding away. She couldn't…stand….

With the last ounce of energy she had, she levitated Malfoy softly onto a bed. Her vision slipped out of focus, and she heard a large thump—was that her, falling?—and then everything went black.


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: **I guess I've made some of my characters a bit OOC, and I'm sorry about that, but I can't say I'd change it. I love to see Blaise Zabini's charming side…but sorry about not being so good at writing out his lines. I think I'm taking the whole British thing way too far, but being wholly American I have no idea how to make it sound good and British.

If anyone is interested in beta-ing the dialogue to make sure it sounds good, let me know!

There are probably going to be about two or three more chapters. The story is almost at the end...after reading this chapter, it will probably seem strange to you, but things happen abruptly with these characters, as they are very abrupt and stubborn people. So a lot can happen in two or three chapters! No need to fret, there will be a happy ending :)

Also, I've seen the number of hits and it certainly doesn't match up with the amount of reviews. I'd really love it if you could just let me know how I'm doing, a quick word or two, constructive criticism is always welcome as are good comments, but really just anything. Thanks, and, as always, enjoy!

* * *

**Never Lose Strength**

**Chapter 20 **

Ginny was on a mission.

Usually, that would mean she was about to do something completely destructive or perhaps mischievous. This time, though, it was different. There was nothing 'usual' about the situation she found herself in.

This time, her mission was to get to the Hospital Wing as fast as physically possible—as fast as her lean, Quidditch-conditioned legs could take her.

Her breath came out in short puffs as she slid down the hallway, jump a flight of stairs, and sprinted on. Several bewildered younger students looked on as she shot through the school, a fleeting glimpse of fireball-red passing their eyes and then disappearing around the corner.

It was a new record, she was sure, as she burst into the Wing, her lungs about to collapse. At least if they did, she was in the proper place.

"Hermione," She gasped out as Madame Pomfrey strode into the room and quirked her eyebrow at the gasping girl.

Madame Pomfrey nodded grimly, and Ginny followed her to Hermione's bed. A white curtain was drawn all the way around it. "I suggest you calm yourself before you visit with her." The older woman told her sternly before striding off.

Ginny took deep breaths to slow her breathing, and then tentatively pushed aside the curtain. It looked like her friend was sleeping, looking perfectly healthy, her brown curls tumbling out along the pillow. "Hey." Ginny said softly. "Are you awake?"

Hermione's eyes slowly opened, confusion clear as she tried to make sense of her surroundings. Her eyes narrowed. "The Hospital Wing?"

"I'm impressed." Ginny chuckled. "That would have taken me far longer to figure out."

"Well, you know." Hermione tried to shrug, which was nearly impossible, as she was still lying down, staring up at the ceiling, or at Ginny, rather.

The redhead laughed. "Yes, I do." Her smile slipped away. "So how do you feel?"

"Fine." Hermione told her quickly. "Just a little…fuzzy. What exactly happened?"

At that very moment, another person burst into the room. It was none other than Harry Potter, his messy black hair more ruffled than ever, panting as Ginny had been. He strode over when he saw Ginny's flaming hair, and a grin broke out across his face when he saw Hermione awake and well. "Doing all right?"

Hermione smiled weakly. "Yes, just a little tired. I was just asking Ginny what had actually happened. I don't seem to have recollection. It'll probably come back to me later, but for now…."

Harry nodded, and sighed. "You went after Malfoy, into the Forbidden Forest. It's a complicated story—he went after you in the first place, after you 'ran away,' so to speak, and you came back and realized and went after him. A big, confusing, rather costly misunderstanding. He's in here somewhere, too." He looked around, then shrugged, realizing thick white curtains surrounded all the other beds, blocking their inhabitants from view.

She immediately tried to sit up, but then groaned and let her body drop back onto the bed. "You'll see if he's okay, won't you?"

Surprise crossed her friends' faces at her sincere concern. "Are you actually caring what happened to him?" Ginny asked, looking a bit bemused.

"After all I did, he _better_ be okay." Hermione grumbled in response.

They all laughed at her utterly Hermione-like answer. "Fair enough." Harry said. "I'll go find Madame Pomfrey."

He returned minutes later with the old witch in tow. She pointed to the bed next to Hermione's, sternly told her to _not get up_, and disappeared back into her office.

Ginny pulled aside the curtain to Malfoy's bed for Hermione. She leaned over to peek in—it looked like he was sleeping. At least he had some color in his face. He looked somewhat peaceful, surprisingly enough. Who know that he could ever look so calm and untroubled—

"Ahem." Ginny cleared her throat noisily.

Hermione started, and then felt the beginnings of a blush. She suddenly felt like she was invading on the boy's privacy. "Sorry. You can put the curtain back."

Ginny let the sheet drop back, and once again the blonde-haired boy was hidden from Hermione's view.

She yawned. "I'm a little tired. I'll see you two later, then?"

They both nodded in salutation, and slipped out of the Hospital Wing as Hermione fell back into sleep.

* * *

The Great Hall was bustling. It was the height of breakfast time, and almost every student and faculty member was present as the feast waged on all around.

Hermione Granger stepped into the large room, feeling more refreshed than she had in a long time. The Head Boy was all right, she was all right, and while things weren't all right between them, certainly everything would eventually work out. She would go back to ignoring the insufferable pig, and all would be right in the world.

And there were her friends! Delighted at the thought of lunching with them, she had to stop herself from speeding over to the Gryffindor table. There was a convenient spot for her between Angylin and Harry; Ron was nowhere to be seen. That made sense, as the last Hermione had heard, he still hadn't apologized or made any attempt to right the situation.

Lavender was sitting across from her. It was strange that the girl wasn't making any remarks about where Hermione had been—being the resident perpetrator of the Hogwarts gossip mill, she had figured the girl would be on her case right away. Lavender wouldn't miss something huge, like Hermione being out all night….

But then again, they no longer shared a dormitory. Hermione had left after dinner, so how was Lavender to know?

In any case, the girl started off right away by saying, "Less than two weeks till the Ball!"

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Is it, really?"

Lavender nodded furiously. "I'm going to get my dress today. It's Saturday, so we're free to go to Hogsmeade."

"It's Saturday?" Hermione mused, shoving a spoonful of porridge into her mouth. She was absolutely starved.

"Silly Hermione." Lavender giggled. "Of course it's Saturday! Don't pretend you haven't been counting down the days. But then again, you always _have_ fancied the weekdays and never-ending schoolwork…."

Hermione laughed breezily. "Right you are, Lav. A whole day out at Hogsmeade would have me missing my textbooks terribly."

At that moment, Ginny leaned in from a few seats down and called to Hermione. "Are you going to get a dress today?"

Hermione shrugged. "I don't even know if I'll end up going. I don't have a date."

"As of now." Angylin was quick to add from her left. "Who says you won't?"

A half-hearted shrug answered that question. "Honestly, who's going to ask me?"

"I hear Justin Finch-Fletchly's had a thing for you all year," Ginny announced in a singsong voice.

Hermione groaned as half the table turned to look at her. "Let's announce it to all the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs as well, shall we?"

"Not the Slytherins?" Harry joked.

Her expression soured. "Save for a few, they aren't even worth _looking_ at. And by a few, I mean one. Zabini."

Angylin grinned. "I still can't believe he asked me! He's really handsome, actually. And I say handsome instead of cute because 'cute' really doesn't do it for him."

"I'll have to agree on that one." Hermione nodded. "He's all right. But that pretty much covers it for decent Slytherins."

"Stop wallowing in self-pity!" Ginny yelled to be heard over the ruckus. "Come to Hogsmeade with us and get a dress!"

After a bit more persuading, Hermione agreed to at least go with Ginny and Angylin to Hogsmeade. She hadn't promised she'd buy anything, but maybe if something caught her eye…

Speaking of catching her eye, she looked up sharply as a flash of white-blonde hair mocked the corner of her vision. Her eyes followed Malfoy as he sauntered over to the Slytherin table, looking as pompous and arrogant as always. She thought Madame Pomfrey had decreed that he stay in the Hospital Wing all day, considering there were no classes—apparently, he had managed to use his (entirely nonexistent, in Hermione's mind) _charm_ to persuade her to let him go early.

Sighing deeply, she finished eating her meal quietly, not really participating in any conversations, just listening and thinking.

She had just finished drinking the last of her pumpkin juice when Ginny and Angylin each took an arm and hoisted her up out of her seat.

"Time to go," Angylin declared.

Hermione smiled a little, and followed them out of the Great Hall. "It's a bit chilly out, isn't it?"

Ginny shrugged. "A bit, I suppose. You should be fine how you are."

They headed out into the windy morning, cloaks billowing behind them as their talk and laughter carried away on the breeze.

* * *

"See you guys later!" Hermione called as she left her friends at the Gryffindor tower and headed on to her own dorm. She was whistling cheerily as she skipped her way down the corridors, floating on the memories of the wonderful day at Hosgmeade.

Ginny had been right—she had needed to stop wallowing in self-pity, and that was exactly what she had done. The three girls had spent the morning in Hogsmeade shopping for dresses, and then met their other friends around lunchtime at the Three Broomsticks for butterbeers, rosy-cheeked and mostly triumphant in their quests for dresses. The rest of the day had been spent with their friends, visiting various shops and just generally having a splendid time.

Even the fact that she would have to sleep in her dorm tonight, in close proximity to the ferret-boy, couldn't put a damper on her mood. Her bubble couldn't be burst, she thought happily, because as of right now it was made of non-puncture-able…rubber?

She reached her portrait and said the password. She climbed through, and began to walk across the common room to the stairs leading up to her bedroom.

"Granger." A cold voice sliced through the air, ringing in her ears as she stopped and turned around. It was insane how his voice could be so deep and so piercing at the same time.

"Malfoy." She struggled to keep her voice calm. He wasn't going to ruin her day, not after it had been so brilliant. After all, her bubble was made of rubber.

"Did you enjoy your day in Hogsmeade with your little friends?" He asked. He was sitting on the couching, arms spread out over the back as if he owned the place, smirking like the git he was.

"Very much, thanks." She replied stiffly. "If you don't mind, now, I've got things to do."

"Do you?" His voice was completely fake in its sympathy. "I wasn't aware your kind of people had things to do that would trump the idea of talking to me."

"My kind of people," Hermione repeated, wondering how someone could be so bloody racist. "My kind of people clearly aren't supposed to associate with _your kind_, so I think it would do us both bloody well if you'd bugger off."

He clucked his tongue. "Such harsh words. Tell me, Granger, how do I elicit such anger from you?"

"By being such a godforsaken prat."

"Ouch." He pretended to wince, but his smirk never left. "Really, Granger, coming from you, that really hurts." He didn't try to hide his sarcasm.

"Why are you even talking to me if you find me so utterly repulsive?" She asked, her bubble slowly wearing away. Damn him. "Why didn't you just let me walk on by? Do you have some sick fascination with indicating to me how much you despise me?"

"No, I just rather enjoy it." He replied.

"You are so infuriating. I think I'll leave now. Good night." She turned on her heel and began to walk upstairs.

"Oi, Granger, what's that? A bag? A dress? Has little miss Muggle-born got a date to the ball?" He called after her.

She was momentarily stunned that he hadn't used the other little m-word he was seemingly so adept at slipping into conversation. "Wow, Malfoy." Her voice was flat. "You're really losing your, as we Muggle-borns say, _bite_." And then she proceeded to walk into her room and slam the door shut before flinging the bag containing her dress as hard as she could against the opposite wall.

Not only was Malfoy naturally a prick, he was ungrateful to boot! She had saved his pissed behind from the Forbidden Forest, and to return the favor, all he offered were a few unnecessary and mean comments.

Whatever. She was already over him, a hundred times. It didn't matter how safe she had felt in his arms, or how handsome he was when she managed to forget how evil he was.

* * *

Angylin was walking down the hall, super fast. It was after dinner. The Hogsmeade trip had been a huge success, and nothing particularly catastrophic had happened. They had eaten dinner together back at the castle, and then all gone their separate ways back to their towers. However, Angylin _really_ had to work on some things at the library, so she was hurrying her way through the corridors to reach her destination.

But that wasn't the only reason she was practically running. She had also just spotted Blaise Zabini and Draco Malfoy turning the corner behind her, talking and laughing about something or other. This was a problem—especially if Blaise was as 'charming' as he seemed. He most definitely wouldn't ignore her, which meant she would be stuck walking with him and Malfoy, and she would have to try super hard to not punch Malfoy squarely in the face.

Unfortunately, her self-control was not known to be the best.

So she was rushing, one step below full-out running, trying to turn the next corner before they turned theirs and saw her. Maybe she could dart into a classroom and wait for them to pass by—but no, the classrooms were all dark and creepy and she really wasn't in the mood to get attacked.

"Angylin!"

Busted.

Angylin took a deep breath, then turned slowly and half-glared at the fast-approaching Slytherins. She smiled a little. "Blaise." Then her smile turned into a downright frown, her forehead creasing. "Malfoy."

She wanted to pluck every fine blonde hair off his shiny head when he said, of course while smirking, "What, I don't get a more enthused greeting?"

"You don't deserve an 'enthused' greeting of any kind." Angylin growled at him, complete with bunny fingers.

"Really?" He sounded amused. "And why is that?"

"Um, I don't know, maybe because you're a jerk and an idiot and you deserve to live in a hole by yourself and die a slow, painful death?"

Now he looked a bit taken aback. "Well, I don't like you much, either. If I remember correctly, you punched me in the face." He touched his chin gingerly.

"Damn right I did." She narrowed her eyes at him. "And don't you _ever_ forget it."

Blaise just looked between the two of them, amused.

"So I suppose your less-than-friendly greeting has to do with a certain insufferable, annoyingly righteous know-it-all, doesn't it?"

"The very same." Angylin's words had an air of challenge as she crossed her arms across her chest and stared him down defiantly.

His ice-gray eyes, as chilling as they were, weren't enough to make Angylin back down, and in response, he didn't back down, either. "So what was it this time? A particularly insulting joke on my part? Most likely, as those are my specialty."

"No, it was the fact that you're an unappreciative dousche who's too fucking proud to be indebted to someone who saved your life."

He raised an eyebrow. "I hardly think providing a few laughs here and there, at her expense, of course, constitutes saving my life."

Angylin's mouth fell open. "You really don't know, do you?"

Malfoy looked between her and Blaise, and gave his friend a look that said something like, _what the bloody hell is your wonky girlfriend talking about_?

"She's right." Blaise told Malfoy, looking almost sorry to have to say it.

"You owe your life to your fellow Head student." Angylin put in boldly.

"Sorry, what kind of student?" Blaise threw in, the only thing giving away his own amusement by his joke being the small smirk gracing his face.

"Really funny, and appropriate to the situation, thanks." Angylin snarled. She turned back to Malfoy. "I don't know who the hell you think you are, but the fact is that if it weren't for Hermione, your ass would be stuck back in the Forbidden Forest and you would probably get eaten by a giant tarantula or something equally ridiculous. So I'd suggest you show her a little respect."

And then, before either boy could say anything, she stalked off. It was all she could do to keep herself from driving her fist right into the center of the bigot's perfect nose. She had done it once, and she sure as hell would do it again, if it weren't for the tiny fact that she couldn't blow her last chance at normalcy, or however close the chaotic world of Hogwarts came to it.


	21. Chapter 21

**Never Lose Strength**

**Chapter 21**

_Bang. Bang. Bang_.

Hermione growled and yanked her brush harder through her hair. "Who do you think you are?" She muttered to her reflection, her words really directed at the infuriating man—boy—that was threatening to break down the bathroom door. "WAIT YOUR TURN!" She screamed at him.

"Let me in!" He yelled in reply.

"No, you git! Why would I do that?" She bit her lip to keep from crying out in pain as her brush ripped through her hair almost violently. She abruptly put the brush down.

"Because I'm on a busy schedule!"

"So you're the only one that counts?" Trusting herself to not accidentally pull her own head off, she picked up the brush again and continued grooming her hair, this time in a more gentle fashion.

"That's how it's always been, Granger, and that's how it'll stay!"

She let out her breath. "Listen here, you insufferable ferret. I don't care about you and your ridiculous point of view, and I certainly don't care that you need something from the bathroom. I'll take as long as I very well want."

Pause. "Who said I needed something?" He finally said.

She couldn't decipher his tone. "Pardon?"

"I don't need anything, Granger. I need to tell you something."

She rolled her eyes. "And you can't wait till I come out?"

"I _was_, but you're taking so bloody long! Fine, maybe I won't tell you. You can grow old and die in the bloody bathroom and forever wonder what I was going to say to you, what the great Draco Malfoy was going to say to you that—"

Unbeknownst to him, she had been creeping closer to the door as he ranted. Finally, sighing heavily, she pulled it open.

He stopped talking abruptly, and looked down at her.

"Well? Get on with it. I haven't got all day." Hermione prompted, arms folded stubbornly across her chest.

He continued to stare for a minute, and then suddenly leaned down and made to touch his lips to hers.

But she was too quick. She moved backwards, anticipating the move, and left him hanging. He attempted to straighten up in a dignified manner—Hermione had to admit, he did a pretty good job—as she spoke: "Do you honestly think that that was all right? After you've been nothing but horrible to me…calling me names, stabbing me in the back, not even a simple thank you for saving you from the Forest…I wasn't going to say anything, because Merlin knows that I don't need your gratitude, but this is too far. You can't seriously expect me to let you kiss me."

He looked bewildered; apparently a girl not wanting to kiss him was mind-boggling. "Excuse me?"

She tapped her foot, frustrated. "You can't just come and kiss me when all you are is a git to me! It doesn't work like that! The world doesn't work like that!"

"No?" Now he sounded almost amused, but Hermione knew him well enough that she knew he was only covering up for his utter confusion at how to handle the situation.

Was this really his first time getting rejected? Hermione laughed inwardly—who would have thought that _she_ would have been the first person to reject him? "No."

"Would you like me to apologize?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Are you making a joke out of this?"

"Not quite."

"So what, exactly, are you doing?" Her tone was completely suspicious, and she wanted him to know that without any doubt in his mind.

"Offering to apologize. If you are who you claim you are, this has happened loads of times before—people accepting that they're wrong and moving on."

"How can you sound so pompous when you're _apologizing_?" Hermione asked incredulously.

He shrugged. "It's an art. A skill, if you will. And anyway, I haven't apologized yet. You haven't said if you're taking me up on my offer or not."

"_What_ offer?" Hermione asked, completely confused and a little irritated.

"The offer to apologize, obviously." He sounded bored, now. He was picking imaginary lint off of his sweater, not even looking at her.

She rolled her eyes. "And _obviously_, I want you to apologize. It's the least you could do. I don't understand why you need to ask me if I want you to apologize. A bit unnecessary, don't you think?"

A shadow passed over his face. "Some people find it a weakness to apologize. I am, clearly, a selfish being, and protect my own interests before anyone else's."

She half-grinned, suddenly feeling fully terrible for him and trying to lighten the mood. "Glad to know I come in a close second."

He snorted. "Close? Your interests, my dear Granger, are _kilometers_ away from my interests, in my book."

"Is this how you normally go about apologizing?" She raised an eyebrow.

He smirked. "I don't apologize often. Sorry. How's that?"

"That's it? That's your apology?"

He snarled. "What did you expect, a bloody serenade?"

"No, but a girl can dream." As soon as the words left her mouth, she froze. Was she actually _flirting_ with him? Oh, Merlin, no. Was she _attracted_ to him?

A smirk fixed upon his face. "You dream about me singing to you, do you?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, trying to fight the blush off her cheeks. "Yes, obviously. Can't you tell I'm madly in love with you?"

He pretended to look thoughtful. "I've suspected for some time now, but I've never had any evidence to back it up."

A bewildered laugh exploded from her throat. "We're being civil to each other. Are you noticing this?"

He shrugged. "Consider it my extended apology, since my previous one clearly wasn't sufficient."

She laughed, a genuine, amused laugh. And then, before she could think about what she was doing, she leaned in and gave him a hug.

He pulled back quickly, as if he had been burned. "I wasn't aware that apologies led to, ahem, hands-on procedures. I wouldn't have bothered, then."

She laughed again. "Honestly, Malfoy, I'm not the one who tried to kiss me _before_ the apologies flew."

He narrowed his eyes at her, as if debating on something, the answer to which he would find in her face. And then he leaned in for the second time, and attempted to kiss her. And this time, she let him.

When they broke apart, both out of breath and a little amazed by how much feeling the kiss evoked in them (he had a lot of experience to compare it with, while she didn't), they stepped back, a little awkwardly, and looked at each other.

"Well," Hermione finally said, when it was clear that he wasn't going to say anything. "I guess I had better start calling you Draco now."

"That's it?" He asked, folding his arms across his chest. "No, 'oh, Draco, you are so amazing! I wish I could snog you all day!'" He made his voice high-pitched, imitating a fawning girl. "Just 'I should call you Draco'. Thank you, Granger."

"Hermione." She corrected. "And no, I didn't say that, because I generally try to avoid lying."

"I like Granger better." He told her. "And _ouch_."

She rolled her eyes. "Whatever, King Malfoy. I don't lose opportunities to one-up you, in case that little fact hadn't passed through your thick skull before."

"What happened to Good Girl Granger, the one who only spreads kindness and giving through the whole bloody world?"

"Except in your case." She added. "I enjoy besting you."

"So how about you best my kiss." He smirked—because before everything, he was a hormonal teenage boy, and they had shared a damn good kiss.

To his utter surprise, she stood on tiptoe and proceeded to kiss him quite thoroughly. When she was stepped back, the look of surprise was still frozen on his face. "What?" She asked, this time smirking herself. "Didn't think I had it in me?"

He shrugged.

Hermione opened her mouth then to ask where this left them, but then closed it again. Her relationship with him couldn't be labeled by anything traditionally acceptable. They hated each other one minute, tolerated each other the next, and were kissing a breath later. She couldn't doubt the attraction between them, but also didn't doubt that by the end of the day they would have a major fight along one of the lines that had divided them for so long—blood, friends, houses. Still, if one were to get into huge trouble, she knew the other would do everything in their power to help.

Basically, it was complicated.

So she opted for an easier question—"Will you go the dance with me?"

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Did we suddenly switch genders?"

"Merlin!" She looked up at the ceiling in exasperation. "You conservative bigot. Why shouldn't girls be allowed to ask boys out?"

"So you're asking me out?" He raised an eyebrow at her.

She threw her hands up in annoyance. "I'll be in my room." She growled, then turned on her heel and made to stalk off.

He caught her arm, forcing her to stop right in the middle of her dramatic exit. "If you keep kissing me like that, Granger, I'll gladly accompany you to the ball."

She snorted, yanked her wrist out of his grip, and instead of going to her room, headed out of the Heads' dorm to find Angylin or Ginny.

* * *

Angylin was practically floating on a cloud. Just after Malfoy had headed off to go find Hermione, Blaise had grabbed her hand and led her into a secluded niche off the hallway they had been in—and he had sure made her dealing with Malfoy worth it. She knew he must be smooth with the ladies, because he came off as overbearingly confident; but she didn't know that it was because he was such an amazing kisser!

Now she tucked her hair behind her ear as she headed towards the Heads' dorm. She had to go tell Hermione straightaway; she knew she would want to know. From what she could gather, Hermione and Blaise were tolerant of each other.

She was running so fast and thinking so little that she crashed right into Hermione outside the Heads' dorm. It appeared that she had been leaving.

Angylin scrambled up from the ground. "Hermione!" She breathed. "Guess what!"

"I have something to tell you too." Hermione replied, smiling a little. "On the count of three?"

They counted, and then Hermione blurted, "I kissed Malfoy!" at the same time as Angylin yelled, "I kissed Blaise!"

They stared at each other a moment, and then burst out laughing.

"I'm so happy for you." Hermione hugged her friend. "You must like him a lot."

"He's kind of arrogant, but I do." Angylin confirmed. "But you and _Malfoy_? What happened? I just yelled at him a while ago for being an ungrateful brat."

"And then he came and apologized. And then…well, I don't know, really. It just happened."

"And?" Angylin prompted.

"And we'll probably never stop fighting, we're at odds about everything, there are times I wouldn't mind tying him to a rock at the bottom of the lake, but he's a bloody good kisser for the few moments we can bear each other."

Angylin laughed.

"Honestly, we entertain each other. Once the actual mean-spiritedness goes away, I like fighting with him—to see what he can come up with to say. And he's not a dull person. All in all, it's not bad." She paused. "We're going to the dance together."

Angylin's mouth fell open. "Herms!" She screamed then, and threw her arms around Hermione. "That's awesome! I knew you would get a date."

Hermione grinned. "Yeah, I was getting pretty doubtful for a while there." She sighed. "Now, my only problem is, how will Ron and Harry react?"

Angylin winced. "Ooh, Ron. I hope he still doesn't hate me. He thought something was going on between Harry and I! How ridiculous is that? I can't handle that kind of jealousy. Anyway, I saw him with that Lavender girl a little earlier. He hasn't been around for meals and such."

Hermione shrugged. "He's a big boy. He'll figure it out. I just hope he doesn't kill me. And Harry. Oh, Merlin. What are they going to say?"


	22. Chapter 22

A/N: All right, so once again, I fail at being responsible about my stories. I FINALLY got a new computer, so I can actually work on it, and now I am determined to finish this story and Blinded by the Light by ... New Year's? Goal!

Thanks to everyone who reviewed.. and those of you who are reading but not reviewing, I know you're out there, and I'm glad that at least you're enjoying the story :)

* * *

  


**Never Lose Strength**

**Chapter 22**

"So you're still going as Elizabeth Swann, right?" Ginny asked, settling down on the couch by the fire.

Hermione sank down next to her; she would have to leave the Gryffindor Common Room soon, since no-students-allowed-out time was fast approaching as darkness reigned outside, but for now she was content here. "I think so. I can tweak my dress a little bit to make it fit her." She turned towards one of the other couches, where Lavender and Parvati were discussing their own dresses. "What happened to your cat outfits?" She asked them.

Lavender made a face. "McGonagall specifically asked us to show her what we were wearing, and then rejected them. She actually _took_ them, and Merlin knows what she did with them! So we had to go buy new costumes—they're so much more boring, but we already had our stroke of brilliance."

Hermione laughed out loud. Last year, the girls had gone as mice—their outfits had been ridiculously skimpy, however, and the staff had not been pleased. Apparently this year they had decided to upgrade to cats; but that had been vetoed. "So what are your new costumes?"

"We're not telling." Parvati grinned at her.

"Fine, fine." Hermione held up her hands. "By the way, Gin, what are you going as? Are you coordinating with Harry?"

Ginny shrugged. "Originally we had all decided to go solo—but now Luna and Neville are going together, and I guess Angylin is going with Blaise, so I don't see any reason why not to go with Harry."

"I'm going with Ron." Lavender offered. Her voice got softer. "Sorry, Hermione."

The brunette was impressed by her apology, even if it was completely unnecessary. "It's really not a problem, Lav. Ron and I romantically involved is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. …Not that Ron isn't a wonderful person, because he is." She added quickly.

Lavender laughed in relief. "Good. So our outfits don't really coordinate, because Ti and I bought our dresses together, but we should still look okay."

"If we're all going with someone, I'm going with Seamus." Parvati offered.

Hermione was busy staring into the fire, mesmerized by the dancing flames. For some reason, fire always calmed her. "That's great." She said incredibly softly, her eyes still focused on the hearth.

Ginny started. "Oh, poor Hermione! You don't have a date, do you? Oh, I'm so sorry. Okay, that's fine; I don't have to go with Harry. We'll go together, okay?"

Hermione looked up quickly. "What? No! That's not what I—I mean—" She struggled to figure out what to say. She sighed then. "Actually, I needed to talk to you about that." She was aware that Parvati and Lavender were still within earshot and listening intently. Ah! What to do, what to do? "I'm completely fine with it if you want to go with Harry. I'm perfectly happy with the current arrangements." She wasn't lying, per say; just avoiding the whole truth.

Her redheaded friend looked at her strangely, but seemed to understand that this wasn't the place for Hermione to elaborate. "Well, all right, if you're sure." She made a show of looking cautiously at her, and then Lavender and Parvati. "We won't make Hermione feel left out, will we, girls?"

They all shook their heads no.

Hermione smiled. "Thanks, you guys. I had better get going—Gin, want to walk me back?"

Ginny shrugged. "Since I'm obviously braver than you, and I can handle walking the big bad Hogwarts corridors alone at night, I guess I will."

"Aw, thanks, really." Hermione said sarcastically as she got up. "You're a real friend, Gin." She started to walk towards the portrait, knowing that Ginny would follow her. She turned right before she reached it and waved goodbye to the rest of the inhabitants of the Common Room and then jetted through the portrait hole.

"So?" Ginny asked as soon as they were safely out of any meddlers' earshot. "Who's the lucky guy?"

"What?" Hermione almost exploded. Was it _that_ obvious?"

Ginny snorted. "'Current arrangements'? Please, try and make it a little bit more obvious that you got asked and you didn't want to share."

Hermione made a face as they rounded a corner. "Do you think Parvati and Lavender picked up on it?"

"Obviously not. They would have been all over you like fat little boys on cauldron cakes."

Hermione rolled her eyes at the analogy, but nodded. "That's true. But anyway, this is what I wanted to talk to you about. You promise me that you won't get mad, all right?"

Ginny nodded, looking insanely curious. "Tell me!"

They rounded another corner and then headed down a flight of stairs and back up another, which moved to get them to the correct place. "Malfoy. He asked—well, actually, I asked him." She looked away sheepishly.

There was silence. Hermione cautiously looked towards Ginny to make sure her friend hadn't fallen off the staircase or something—instead, she found the redhead's mouth hanging open in utter shock. Well, okay. She could deal with this reaction. "I know, I was surprised too…but he came to apologize, and one thing led to another. Gin, we kissed." She whispered this last part, as if afraid someone might overhear. It was a legitimate fear—the paintings that lined the walls had very keen ears.

Ginny was frozen still. Then suddenly she seemed to burst out of her shell. "_Malfoy_?" She almost shrieked. Hermione gestured wildly to keep her voice down. "Merlin, Hermione! What _happened_? You've finally cracked! This is it! After everything the slimy git has ever done to you….the All Hallow's ball…_together_…." She shook her head, as if she couldn't even comprehend it.

Hermione wasn't sure what to say. "Um, yes?" She sighed. "It was all so sudden and…well…I'd rather this than us constantly fighting. He's not so bad when he's not being a prat. And he came after me when he thought I had gone into the Forbidden Forest, right? That must say something."

"Yeah, that he's loony, just like you!" Ginny shook her head.

The brunette laughed. "I suppose I have gone a little loony. But what can it hurt? It's not like I had many better prospects for the ball."

"But you kissed!" Ginny pointed out. "Kissing isn't desperation; kissing is _desire_."

Hermione couldn't argue that one. "I guess I'm a little bit attracted to him."

Ginny grinned. "Who isn't? He's a right sexy wanker."

With a roll of her eyes, Hermione stopped in front of the Head Dorms' portrait and said the password. Today, the painting was of an eagle in an azure sky. When Hermione spoke the password, the large black eye of its that they could see rolled towards them, and then the portrait swung open to admit them.

"Are you going to stay?" Hermione asked. "You're welcome to."

Ginny looked undecided. She glanced down the hallway, where the lights were dimming for the last half hour where travel was allowed for students, and then at the portrait hole. Then she smirked. "I guess I had better to make sure you and Malfoy don't…you know." She waggled her eyebrows suggestively.

Hermione's mouth fell open. "You dirty little…weasel! You just got uninvited."

The redhead grinned and followed Hermione through the portrait hole. "Whatever you say, my little lovebird. Anyway, I think I'll head back to Gryffindor Tower—otherwise Parvati and Lavender well get suspicious and give me the third-degree."

"They'll do that anyway." Hermione reasoned as she climbed through the portrait hole.

Ginny shrugged. "Yeah, probably." She glanced through the portrait hole, where Hermione was standing on the other side. Then she glanced down the hallway, and back. "Nah, I'll get going. Friday night I'll stay here, though. Just so you know." She grinned at her friend before heading off down the hallway.

Hermione watched her go until the portrait swung closed, shaking her head at her friend. She then turned and headed into the Common Room and plopped down on one of the couches. The lights were dimming on their own; she stared into the bright fire, focusing all her energy.

At some point, Draco entered the room and took a seat on the other end of the couch. It was strangely awkward in that he was not far, but not close, and that he didn't speak, but it was also not because she felt no awkwardness. She just felt comfort.

She was, frankly, surprised at his quiet. They were never quiet when they were together. How would they act now? She found that she didn't suddenly have mushy-gushy urges around him. He was still the same Malfoy, just in a better light. He was still selfish, mean, and spoilt—just…not to her. She wanted to be friends. That was it. Friends with benefits? She couldn't handle any _real_ emotional connection between them just yet.

That was the distance between them, the extra couch cushion that separated them.

* * *

The next week and a half passed quickly; Hermione began her schoolwork and Head duties again with new vigor, and her relationship with Draco neither progressed nor deteriorated. They stayed the same—friends with benefits. They stole occasional heated kisses, but otherwise acted no different, other than the new friendly twist. There was no more maliciousness or desire to see the other person fall.

That wasn't to say they didn't really fight. They fought often and hard, and it often wore them both out because now it mattered that they fought—it hurt a little bit when they fought. They had gone from being always at odds to being at odds half the time. They no longer searched for ways to beat each other, but at the same time didn't stop embracing the opportunities when they arrived.

The day before the dance arrived, and Hermione walked into the Common Room before dinner to see Draco sitting on one of the couches, reading a book. Funnily enough, her enjoyed reading, and they could debate for hours on their favorite classics. He was currently rereading Crime and Punishment by Dostoevsky.

"Hey." Hermione greeted as she slung her bag on the back of the couch and headed into the kitchen to the fridge. She opened it and rummaged around, barely hearing his reply. She all of a sudden closed the fridge and looked into the sink, and then said, "You drank my milkshake."

He snickered, because apparently he had found some sexual innuendo in her words.

Hermione hadn't been upset at first. Fine, he drank it—maybe he didn't know that it was hers or that she had gone all the way down to the kitchens to get it specially made and have it ready for after classes on Friday. But honestly, did he have to _laugh_? Couldn't he just _apologize_? A simple sorry, and she would have moved on. But this insufferable little…. She planted her hand on her hip and her voice was slightly annoyed as she said, "It was mine, and you had no right to drink it."

"It didn't have your name on it." He said lazily, clearly unable to bring himself to care. "And really, Granger, I'm too busy right now to fight over your stupid milkshake."

"Busy?" She asked incredulously. "You've read that book only a hundred times! And what gives you any right to decide what we fight about? It was my milkshake, and I wanted to drink it!" She paused. "Go get me another one."

"No."

"Draco Malfoy! Go get me another milkshake!" She yelled.

He finally put down his book and stood up. "Don't order me around, Granger."

"Don't take my stuff, Malfoy." She replied, her voice ice cold. "Especially when you _know_ it's mine."

He shrugged. "I didn't know it was yours."

The little git! He _knew_ it was hers. He saw her drink it every single Friday before dinner. He couldn't be _that_ oblivious. She knew he wasn't that oblivious. He was one of those people that picked up even the littlest details. How dare he outright lie to her! "You very well knew it was mine, and you'll go get me another one before I—"

"Before you what, Granger? Hex me?" He snarled. "You wouldn't, what with your pure Gryffindor heart and all."

She whipped out her wand and pointed it threateningly at him. "Watch me." She growled.

He snorted. "Why don't you go be valiant instead—save someone else from the big bad forest."

Her mouth fell open. "You ungrateful pig!" She shouted. "If it wasn't for me, you would have died!" She saw him start to open his mouth, and narrowed her eyes. "You even admitted to being ungrateful. You apologized to me."

"I apologized for kissing you." He sneered. "I never apologized for anything else. I don't owe you anything."

She let out an indignant screech, and then turned on her heel and marched up to her room. "You're a bloody self-serving little prat, Draco Malfoy." And then she slammed her room door and set to work getting ready for dinner.

This was normal. Little things escalated into cross-examinations of the very idiosyncrasies that made up the both of them. They pointed out each other's faults and compounded them regularly, but usually never meant what they said during their heated arguments. Everything they did was passionate and explosive, and one could argue that they were never in control of their actions around each other. Even their snogging had turned into more of a reaction when they saw each other than something they consciously wanted.

Hermione put on her jeans and shirt quickly, without much thought. She brushed out her hair, grabbed some shoes, and headed back out into the Common Room. It was Friday night, meaning that students were allowed to change out of their uniforms for dinner and after.

Malfo—_Draco_—had settled back on the couch, and he was peacefully reading his book like he had been before. She swept by with a certain snooty air, making sure her presence was known. The air whooshed even though she wasn't wearing her school robes. She had nearly reached the portrait when he finally spoke.

"Granger." His tone was neutral.

She stopped, but didn't turn.

"Granger, turn around."

She slowly spun. He was standing up. They locked eyes.

They both found themselves moving forwards with no conscious thoughts. This was the _reaction_ that happened now—they were drawn together without really knowing what was happening.

When their lips met, it was fiery and passionate like always. They fought for dominance, and bickered silently even in their sweetest moments.

When they finally pulled away, they were both panting heavily and their gazes met again. Their eyes were opposites, just like everything else—his were icy gray, warmed to almost-blue only when he was around her; hers were warm brown, sparked with amber and copper when they touched.

They hadn't, in the past, touched each other beyond what was necessary to get at each other's lips. Now, though, Draco found his arms around her back, holding her against him. He immediately let go.

They both took a step backwards. "I'll see you later." Hermione whispered, and then she backed away, ever so slowly, and finally turned and went through the portrait hole.

Hermione took a deep breath as she emerged in the corridor. Sure, they didn't talk about any of their problems, but it was better this way. If they tried to talk, it would only blow up again. The fact was, they would not agree, not matter how much they tried.

But now for the real problem—tomorrow night, she and Draco were going to the ball together. But how to tell Harry and Ron? They would most likely blow it all out of proportion, considering everything that had happened recently.

She would have to do it tactfully. She reached the Great Hall, ate dinner happily, and then asked Harry and Ron to come outside with her for a minute. On a last thought, she invited Ginny as well; perhaps she could help with damage control.

The first thing Hermione noticed as the boys trailed after her to the giant double doors was the tension between her two best friends. They wouldn't look at each other, much less speak to each other. As bad as this was, it could perhaps work in her advantage; divided, they would be much easier to deal with.

She would find out the reason for their falling out soon enough. Now, though, there was a bigger issue at hand.

The four gathered in an alcove off of the main foyer where they were hidden from view. Harry and Ron stood opposite Ginny and Hermione.

"So…." Hermione began, finding that for once in her life, words were failing her. She looked to Ginny, who just shrugged. "I have something to tell you guys, but you have to promise me not to freak out, all right?" She looked at them hopefully.

Neither one moved.

"As long as it's not too bad…." Harry began hesitantly. He clearly did not want to make this promise. He sighed. "I don't even know what this has to do with. But fine, I'll try and control myself."

Ron nodded almost imperceptibly.

"Okay." Hermione smiled. "So, um, you know how Malfoy and I haven't been the greatest of friends so far this year…."

Harry immediately lunged forwards, eyes burning. "Malfoy? What did the little ferret do? Tell me. I'll kill him!"

Hermione put up her hands. "No, no!" She shook her head. "He didn't do anything. Actually, he um…we…well…." She wrung her hands. Better to just tell them straight up. "We're going to the ball together."

For a minute, there was simply silence. Ron and Harry were both goggle-eyed, still as if waiting for Hermione to laugh and say it was a joke.

"Malfoy?" Harry finally said. "The same Malfoy we know?"

"Death Eater Malfoy?" Ron asked.

"He's not a Death Eater." Hermione said simply. "We've managed to work out our differences. Well, kind of." Harry opened his mouth, but Hermione cut him off. "I'm not saying he's changed, or he's suddenly an angel, or anything. He's just changed his attitude towards me. He's finally figured out that his family and his family's leader have based their philosophies on hypocrisy and pish-posh." She stopped and took a breath. "Anyway, we are just two people that want to go to the ball together."

There was silence again. "Would you still go if we freaked out?" Harry asked. Apparently he and Ron were both still too shocked to actually freak out.

Hermione shrugged. "It depends on the seriousness of your freaking out. Obviously, you two are more important to me than he is."

Clearly, this was the right thing to say. "If that scumbag tries anything…." Ron said, letting the threat hang to make it as threatening as possible.

Hermione smiled. "Then I can count on you two to beat him up for me."

"And Seamus." Ginny offered, speaking for the first time. "He did it once, and he did a bloody fine job of it. I'm sure he'll be more than happy to do it again."

They all laughed at that, and the petite brunette turned her attention to her two male friends again. So much testosterone…she sighed. They thought they were all manly and their stupid boy egos were keeping them from apologizing or whatever. She was already thoroughly convinced that they were fighting about something trivial.

Since she was never one to beat around the bush, when the laughter died down she said, "What's going on with you two?" She had since forgotten that Ron was still a little sore at her for rejecting him, but that hardly mattered. Silly Ron couldn't alienate himself from all his friends—she wouldn't let him.

They both had their hands in their pockets, shoulders forward, looking at the ground.

"I'm talking to you." She took on her bossy tone. "Tell me why you're not speaking."

They both opened their mouths to protest, but then thought better of it and shut them again.

"I don't appreciate being ignored." She told them, and Ginny found it a very opportune moment to slip out and leave the Golden Trio alone to work out its problems.

Harry sighed. "Ron's got a problem with me protecting Angylin on orders from Dumbledore. What am I supposed to do?"

Ron resolutely refused to look up.

Hermione looked at the redhead. "Is this true?" She asked, feeling like a kindergarten teacher.

"She was my girl." Ron mumbled. "And once again, the great Harry Potter steals the show."

She felt sorry for him. "Ronald." She said gently, putting her hand on his arm. "Stealing Angylin was never Harry's intention. That's like saying that accusing Harry of putting his own name in the Goblet of Fire and competing in the Triwizard Tournament because he wanted the glory."

A trace of guilt flashed across Ron's face, but he still didn't look up.

Clearly Harry felt sorry too, because he placed a hand on Ron's other shoulder and said, "I would never steal my best mate's girl. That's low." He smirked. "Even for me."

Ron barely smiled.

Hermione felt her frustration flaring. "Ron, don't be such a baby! Even if he was stealing 'your girl'—which he wasn't—don't go moping! At the very least try and get her back! And anyway, wouldn't you realize that Harry wasn't trying anything when Angylin decided to go to the ball with Blaise Zabini? I mean, hell-_lo_, you're not the only—" She stopped at their dumbstruck expressions. They hadn't known that Angylin was going with Zabini, apparently. She laughed in an awed way. "How are you two so _oblivious_?"

"At least we're not going to the ball with ferret-boy." Ron mumbled defensively.

"Good thing." Hermione snickered.

"If he were a _girl_." Harry clarified, a few moments too late.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Play nice, I'm going." She left the boys in the alcove and wandered back into the Great Hall, looking for Ginny so that they might start their pre-ball preparations.


End file.
